


Slow Burn

by GrownUp90s



Category: Mighty Ducks (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Life After 30, Lost Love, Post-Canon, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-05
Updated: 2017-05-05
Packaged: 2018-10-28 10:03:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 85,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10829016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrownUp90s/pseuds/GrownUp90s
Summary: Adam Banks is a 32-year old NHL center haunted by injuries and the relentless march of time. Julie Gaffney is a 31-year old police sergeant who feels stuck in a rut. Will the pair of high school sweethearts find what they need in the other, or will their long-dormant passion for each other leave them burned?





	1. A Blast from the Past

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mami21](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mami21/gifts).



> I had originally written 'Slow Burn' during the spring/summer of 2016 as a way of bringing two of my favorite '90s characters into the 2010s. Dissatisfied with my work, I deleted it. But rather than let it die, I brought it back to life with improvements in time to celebrate the birthday of a very special friend.
> 
> And now, I'm making that birthday present available to any J/A fan with an internet connection. The paragraph indents are the result of my copying and pasting from the original Word documents that I had coverted to a mobi file. Hopefully they don't look too funny.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!

            Sergeant Julie Gaffney of the Boston Police Department awoke on the morning of her day off and went about her routine of making her bed, slugging a bottle of mineral water, and working out for an hour on the rowing machine in her bedroom before showering and dressing.

            After changing into a fresh pair of black yoga pants and a white Boston University T-shirt, the 31-year old police sergeant made her way down the spiral staircase in the townhouse she shared with her friend of 11 years, Alyssa Browning. Once she had landed on the first floor, Julie indulged in one of the few childish whims that she still clung to. Taking advantage of the maple hardwood's slick, waxed surface, she slid across the townhouse floor in her white crew socks as if she was skating.

            As a young girl, she had always dreamed of being an all-star NHL goalie. But that was a man's world, and her playing days ended at college graduation from BU, where she majored in criminal justice. Rather than return home to Bangor, Maine, she decided to stay put and work as a cop in the big city. Starting out as a patrolwoman at the BPD, she worked her way up to sergeant after 8 years on the force.

            Now a 10-year veteran, things seemed to be slowing down. Promotion opportunities had become increasingly scarce, and dealing with the worst elements of society on a daily basis was beginning to make her jaded. She had gone back to BU for her master's degree in the hopes of getting a leg-up on other middle-ranking officers in line for promotion, only to be left with a piece of paper and student debt to pay off.

            Arriving in her cozy kitchen with white-painted cabinets and wooden countertops, Julie could hear rain beating against the window over the sink. Turning the blinds, she saw that the sun was trying to rise, but was obscured by massive rain clouds.

_Good day to stay in, I guess._

            Like most people, Julie was familiar with the 'April showers bring May flowers' refrain, but these persistent June showers were getting rather tedious.

            After switching on the tiny countertop TV, she got to work grinding her hazelnut coffee beans and preparing an egg white omelet. New England Sports Network (NESN) ran their 20-minute updates in the background while she retrieved her freshly-ground coffee and set up the moka pot on the burner next to the skillet.

            " _It's official, Bruins fans!"_ The voice of Sam Fusco announced on the TV. _"6-time All Star Adam Banks is coming to Boston!"_

            Julie gasped and turned her undivided attention to her 13-inch television screen.

            " _The 32-year old center has signed a 5-year deal worth $60 million,"_ Fusco continued. _"Despite his string of injuries, GM Carl Nardelli is betting that Adam Banks is the missing piece of the puzzle going into the 2014-2015 season. Banks will be reunited with his old high school linemate, Guy Germaine, and will be introduced at a press conference this Thursday."_

            "Oh my God!" Julie exclaimed in a sharp whisper to herself.

            Adam Banks had been her high school boyfriend, and her first true love. After graduating from Eden Hall, the hockey power couple arrived at Boston University and took both the men's and women's hockey programs to national championships. That glorious freshman year had been the happiest of Julie's life.

            Then everything changed.

            They had not spoken at all in the 13 years since, but she had never forgotten him — despite desperately wanting to. And now he was heading back to Boston.

_It's a big city though. What are the odds we run into each other?_

            Julie liked to take advantage of the free Bruins tickets Alyssa provided, so obviously she would be in The Garden with him, but that did not seem so bad.

_Shit, Alyssa!_

            Her roommate worked for the Bruins as an athletic trainer, hence the free tickets that Alyssa scored and in turn passed on to Julie. If Alyssa was to work with Adam, his path was almost certain to cross with Julie's.

            Speaking of Alyssa…

            "Uh, Julie?" The 30-year old brunette began. "I think your omelet's done."

            Julie looked over at her tall, athletic roommate whom she had met at an off-campus mixer 11 years earlier. With her hazel eyes, clear, porcelain skin, and long, toned physique, Alyssa Browning was a looker. The Bruins trainer was very laidback and casual when off work, and thought nothing of walking around the townhouse in a revealing black tank top and high pink pajama shorts.

            "Oh. Morning, 'Lyss," Julie nodded in greeting before making her way over to the stove.

            As the cop's green eyes settled on her scorched breakfast, she let out a bitter chuckle.

            "Just the way I like it," she added before switching off the burner and reaching for a metal spatula.

            As Julie braced herself for several arduous minutes of scraping, she heard a gurgle. Looking over at the next burner, the moka pot had overheated and was oozing coffee onto the stovetop like a volcano.

            "Damn it!"

            "Here, let me help," Alyssa offered, reaching for a roll of paper towels.

            "Thanks," Julie replied, donning a pair of oven mitts and placing the moka pot in the sink before it could do any further damage while Alyssa went to work absorbing spilled coffee.

            "Everything alright, Jules? You seemed out of it when I walked in."

            "Oh, I'm fine," Julie assured her roommate. "I was just a little startled. Did you hear that the Bruins are giving Adam Banks 60 million bucks?"

            Alyssa nodded.

            "The guy's got fine china for bones, that should keep me busy," the trainer joked.

            "Heh, yeah."

            "Didn't you guys have a little thing, y'know…back in the day?"

_Ha! A little thing._

            "I guess you could say that," Julie replied nonchalantly.

            "Well, if you ever wanna re-connect…." Alyssa began with a smile “…I may be able to hook you two up."

            "I'm _sure_ you can," Julie retrieved a carton of eggs from the fridge to restart the cooking process. "Want an omelet?"

            "Oooh, yes please!" Alyssa affirmed, moving toward the sink to clean out the moka pot. "So…you think James will finally pop the question tonight?"

            "Alyssa!" Julie snapped but grinned.

            James Lawton was a well-to-do lawyer in private practice. A good 12 years Julie's senior, the 43-year old had met the cop when he was working in the district attorney's office. James had been going through a bitter divorce at the time, and found comfort in the arms of a comely Boston police officer. At the time, neither Julie nor James were eager for anything serious, but they had enjoyed each other's company over the years and had become exclusive 3 years earlier.

            "I don't know," Julie confessed. "But he's taking me out to Madison's, so I think he's got _something_ special planned for tonight."

            Alyssa flashed a teasing grin.

            "Special enough for you to break out the razor?"

            "Ha-ha," Julie mock-laughed. "But yes!"

            "Well lucky Jim," Alyssa replied. "But make him put a ring on it first!"

            Julie rolled her eyes.

            "Yes, _mother,"_ she replied. "You know James, Alyssa. He's a perfect gentleman."

            Julie had always had a thing for gentlemen. Some women liked a rough diamond, but Julie preferred a polished one. A courteous, knowledgeable, and witty man who held open doors, spoke multiple languages, could tell you everything about any bottle of wine, dressed like James Bond on a good night, and looked like George Clooney's long-lost younger brother.

            The thought of her plans for that evening made Julie forget all about Adam Banks, and she happily went on and on about her older boyfriend while Alyssa patiently listened. Julie's roommate was not the least bit interested in the subject, but she enjoyed the police sergeant's cooking enough to pretend that she was.

* * *

             The rain persisted throughout the day and into the evening when James arrived at the townhouse in his black Audi A8. Dressed smartly in a double-breasted charcoal coat with matching slacks, a crisp white dress shirt with silver cufflinks, a burgundy-colored tie, and black wingtips, James Lawton did not need to rely on his chiseled features to look striking. The tall 43-year old wore his mostly-brown hair that grayed ever-so-slightly at the temples in a part; and his taut, square jawline looked like it could cut granite.

            His gray eyes looked over his date as he crossed the threshold into Julie's townhouse.

            "Julie, you look incredible!" He offered before giving a light kiss on her lips.

            Wearing a plunging black dress that clung to her shapely figure, Julie looked dressed to kill. A pair of black dress sandals, and a silver bracelet completed her outfit, along with a heart-shaped peridot gem hung just above her cleavage on a silver necklace. The gem was Julie's birthstone and matched the shade of her eyes

            "Thanks," she beamed. "So do you!"

            He turned and gestured toward the street.

            "Well, your chariot awaits!"

            She nodded as he stepped outside and unfurled his black umbrella. After walking under his umbrella, she was ushered into the passenger's side front seat by her companion. She took in the clean, new car smell of the luxury German sedan. With its black leather upholstery, digital blue speedometer, surround stereo system, built-in navigation and safety cams, and souped-up V8 engine, the car was nice…to put it mildly.

            After throwing his umbrella and suit coat into the backseat, James took his seat behind the wheel.

            "Can you believe this weather?" He asked in his smooth, location-less accent. "At this rate, I'll never be able to use the sunroof."

            Julie shrugged.

            "That's Boston for you," she replied. "If you don't like the rain, move to Arizona."

            "Heh, fair enough."

            Once he had safely eased his car into the road, James looked over to the beautiful woman seated next to him.

            "How about some music?" He asked, switching on the stereo before she could reply.

            Julie laughed out loud as one of Justin Bieber's monstrosities filled the luxury sedan with whiny sounds. The incongruity of the classy car and the classless singer was just too rich.

            "Oh, sorry," James offered. "I left it on my commute station." He turned the dial of his satellite radio to one of the classical stations. "Recognize this?"

            "Brahms' _Hungarian Dance, Number 5._ "

            "Very good."

            Julie leaned back into her spacious bucket seat, her eyes half-closed. She was so content where she was that she almost didn't want to go to the restaurant. Sensing that Julie was content to just sit quietly, James was silent as he drove his car onto the Mass Pike. Once on the highway, Julie noticed a Bruins billboard, and her thoughts began to drift towards the team's newest acquisition: Adam Banks.

            "So what do you think of the Banks signing?" She asked.

            James was slightly startled, as Julie had almost appeared to be napping. But the older gentleman recovered his composure easily enough.

            "I beg your pardon?"

_Oh, right. He's not into hockey._

            "Never mind, darling," she replied.

            Julie leaned back again, ostensibly relaxing. But once Adam Banks had returned to her consciousness, she found that he would not leave easily. She kept playing back memories of her first and most potent love while James drove to Madison's Steakhouse in silence.

            After a lavish meal rich in savory dishes, fine wine, and one-sided conversation, James walked Julie to her front door. Thankfully, the rain had stopped. Nothing made the kiss goodnight more awkward than an umbrella, and the lawyer preferred things in life to be as smooth as possible. He had not planned on saying 'goodnight' at that point, but Julie's odd behavior at the restaurant led him to believe that their night was about to end early.

            He took her soft, smooth hand into his larger mitts.

            "Are you quite sure that you're alright, Julie?"

            She looked up into those gray eyes that had always looked so authoritative to her. But now they betrayed a hint of worry.

            "Of course, James," she replied. "Why did you think to ask?"

            "It's just that you have been so quiet," he explained. "Like you were upset about something, are you?"

            Julie shrugged.

            "Just bullshit at work."

            James' eyes widened in surprise.

            "Sorry," Julie offered with a sheepish smile.

_Yep. He's not into hockey and he doesn't swear._

            "That's quite alright," he replied. "The life of a cop is no bed of roses, I understand. Is it anything that you feel like talking about…or _can_ you even? It's not classified, is it?"

            Julie shook her head.

            "No, nothing like that. Just having to babysit another rookie. It gets old pretty quickly."

            James nodded. He could tell from her detached body language and disinterested state that he wasn not going to be getting any tonight. So he moved to cut his losses.

            "I'm sure it does," he sympathized as he placed his hands on her waist, pulling her in. "Get some sleep," he advised before kissing her forehead. "I'm sure you'll be ready and raring to go tomorrow."

            "Thanks, James," she nodded. "Well, good night. Drive safely!"

            "I will. Good night."

            Julie unlocked the black front door to her gray cobblestone townhouse and flicked on a light. The place was all dark.

_Alyssa must be out._

            But that suited Julie. She took off her sandals, retrieved a chilled bottle of water from the fridge and made her way up to her bedroom, switching on lights and switching them back off along the way. After putting away her sandals, she slid out of her dress and threw a long gray T-shirt on over the skimpy black lace she had worn in anticipation of celebrating an engagement.

            But none of that had come to pass.

_Ah well._

            After removing her makeup in her connected bathroom, she chugged some water, set the bottle down onto her nightstand, and settled onto her pillow-top, queen-sized mattress. After switching off the light, she attempted to follow her boyfriend's advice and get a goodnight's sleep.

            But a certain _someone_ kept intruding into her mind.

            She wrapped her arms around the other pillow on her bed and squeezed it tightly as she thought back to the night of the Semi-Formal during her freshman year at Eden Hall.

_14-year old Julie Gaffney had put on a brave face as she watched her date, Scott 'Scooter' Vanderbilt reconnect with his ex-girlfriend. Apparently, the charming, handsome senior goalie had asked the eager freshman to the interclass dance with the intention of making his ex jealous. The plan worked, and after a brief, heated argument, the pair of senior lovers rushed out of the school gymnasium, hand-in-hand._

_"Thanks, Jules!" Scooter had called out. "I owe ya one!"_

Yeah, like maybe a real date _, Julie had fumed to herself._

_She had really taken a liking to her opposite on the Varsity hockey team, and had been looking forward to a romantic evening, only to be humiliated before most of the student body. But she held it together long enough to quietly and calmly walk out into the crisp autumn air with as much dignity as she could muster._

_Once she had made her brave escape, she sat down on a bench some ways away from the gym and began to cry. Dressed in a white U-neck T-shirt, a black knee-length skirt, and a pair of sandals, she was at no risk of overheating under the stars. But her tear-stained face felt warm, and she did not notice how cold she had gotten everywhere else._

_"Hey," came a voice._

_Great._

_Julie did not need to look up to know that it was Adam Banks, the boy she had crushed on at the Junior Goodwill Games. She could only imagine how gross he must have thought her tear and mascara-stained face looked._

_"Hey back," she replied softly._

_"This seat taken?"_

_"Go for it."_

_"You must be freezing,"_

_She felt a warm, heavy black overcoat land softly on her shoulders. She looked up to see Adam dressed in a slate gray suit and steel blue tie._

   Leave it to Banksie to drop the 'Semi' in 'Semi-Formal,' _she thought._

_"That's better," he declared, observing his massive overcoat cover the petite goalie's entire frame like a duvet._

_She knew that Adam had to have known exactly what was up. The whole embarrassing spectacle had occurred well within hearing and visual range of both hockey teams. Now she had to suffer the indignity of Adam watching her cry her eyes out._

_"Adam," she began. "No offense, but I'd really like to be alone right now."_

_"Let's get you some place warm first."_

_He sat up and extended his warm hand, which Julie's icy one reluctantly gripped._

_They walked in silence for a few minutes while Adam led her back to the dormitories. As they approached the front entrance to the girls' dorm, he spoke up._

_"Don't worry about Scooter," he offered. "JV's already working on getting back at him for that little stunt."_

_She chuckled at the thought. She supposed that if she had to get humiliated, her beloved Mighty Ducks were the best people to witness it. Her face got flushed all over again once Adam lifted her chin and locked his sapphire eyes onto hers._

_"And for what it's worth," he continued. "He's the biggest idiot on campus for throwing away the best girl on it."_

_Her peridot eyes widened in shock._

  Adam thinks I'm the best girl on campus?

_As she struggled to verbalize a response, Adam drew her in, closed his eyes and gave her lips a light kiss, sending a warm vibration down to her toes._

_"I'll come back tomorrow for my coat," he announced. "But for now, get some sleep."_

            Following that piece of 17-year old advice from her first love, a 31-year old Julie fell asleep, holding her extra pillow tight.

* * *

             The next afternoon, Julie strolled out of the women's locker room at her precinct and made for the squad room at the back of the building. Her long blonde hair was pulled back in a tight regulation bun, and she cut an authoritative figure in her all-navy blue BPD uniform, complete with three golden chevrons indicating her rank, and her utility belt complete with a holster for her .40 Glock 22. She carried her cap under her arm as she approached the large room full of gray metal desks.

            Even after a decade on the police force, it still amazed her how much of the work involved sitting at a computer and hammering out documents.

            She noticed a tall, willowy young man with strawberry blond hair in a patrolman's uniform sitting in front of her desk as she got closer. Sensing a presence, the young man shot up from his chair.

            After taking a quick glance at the 'Gaffney’ nametag, he thrust out a hand.

            "Hey howahyah, Sahdge," he greeted her in a thick South Boston accent. "I'm Will Shanahan, your new pahtnah."

            Julie shook his outstretched hand.

            "Pleased to meet you, Patrolman Shanahan."

            The young officer winced at the sergeant's formality, but did not object.

            Julie knew from the file that Shanahan was a 21-year old fresh out of the police academy. His performance evaluations had been mostly positive, though he had been criticized by one instructor for being 'overanxious,' and 'excitable.'

_I might as well be training puppies._

            Shanahan quickly turned back to Julie's desk and retrieved a styrofoam Dunkin' Donuts cup.

            "Heeer y'are, Sahdge. I gawt you some cawfee."

            Julie took the cup and gave her latest rookie an appreciative nod.

_Hmm, this one's a brownnoser. Could be worse._

            "So," she began. "I understand this will be your first evening out on patrol."

            Shanahan nodded.

            "I'll do the driving, then," she declared, drawing a disappointed frown from the young man.

            "Sure thing," he agreed.

            "Good."

            Julie had to deal with so many trigger-happy young fools who wanted to be in charge, she was relieved to see that Shanahan was more level-headed. So far, anyway.

            "Keep a cool head, stay vigilant…and for godsake zip up your fly!"

            Shanahan turned beet red as he fumbled for his zipper.

            "Right, let's hit the road then."

            The pair got into a cruiser and occupied four different hiding spots during the first three hours of their shift. Shanahan continued to prove calm and competent as Julie observed him handle various traffic stops — from speeding, to running red lights, to having a busted taillight. She had continued to do the driving, but she allowed the young officer to handle the drivers.

            After three hours on patrol, the young man from South Boston had written 9 tickets and issued 3 warnings. It had been dark for some time when a red Ford Taurus drove by their hiding spot.

            Julie clocked it.

            "28," she announced, indicating that he was obeying the 30 mile-per-hour speed limit.

            "Yeah, but no plates," Shanahan replied.

            "Good eye," Julie commended him. "Hit the lights."

            "Right, Sahdge."

            Shanahan turned on the blue and red strobe lights while Julie eased the Crown Vic onto the road, taking care not to cut too closely ahead of traffic. The two cars behind the red Taurus peeled away once they saw the cruiser's flashing lights. Julie got directly behind the Taurus, which had kept on driving.

            She did a quick flip of the siren.

            The short, sharp sound caught the attention of the driver, and he pulled over to the shoulder. It looked like Shanahan would have to wait a little longer for his first real police chase, but that did not bother Julie. She was more disturbed by the illegally-tinted black windows on the car. Black car windows were the bane of cops' existence, as they were impossible to see through and gave a potentially violent criminal the advantage of surprise. She could not rule out the possibility of violent confrontation, especially given the penchant of certain drug dealers to drive around with no plates.

            Given that the Taurus had no plates, there was no number to radio in to dispatch, but Julie wanted her young partner to be ready for anything.

            "I'll handle this one," she announced. "Be ready to call in for backup."

            "Right," Shanahan nodded. "Be caaareful, Sahdge."

            "I always am."

            She retrieved her flashlight and got out of the car. With one hand on her lit flashlight and the other on the butt of her pistol, Julie approached the car. She felt a rush of adrenalin as she stopped at the driver's door, unable to see into the mysterious car and uncertain of what awaited her inside.

            Setting her worries aside, she knocked on the driver's window, which quickly rolled down.

            "FUCKING PIG!"

            The Taurus took off down the road. Shanahan wasted no time in radioing-in from the passenger's seat while Julie scrambled back to the driver's seat.

            The cruiser's strobe lights had remained on, but Julie switched on the siren and kept it on to warn other drivers of a high-speed pursuit. Her determined green eyes forward, she gave chase.

            "Holy shit, Sahdge!" Shanahan exclaimed. "Why didn't you shoot that fahkin' prick?"

            "Too much paperwork," Julie deadpanned.

            She was in the zone, focused entirely on the road ahead, and was unable to give a full answer to her young partner's question. Though she wasn't kidding either.

            Other BPD cruisers quickly joined the chase, along with one from the Massachusetts State Troopers. Upon seeing the dark blue Trooper cruiser, Julie knew that a turf war would erupt once the suspect was apprehended.

_Heh, another first for Shanahan._

            A spike strip blew out the tires of the speeder, but he desperately pressed on as the rims shot up sparks.

 _He's gotta be hiding something big,_ Julie reasoned as she closed in on the Taurus.

            "Hold on," she instructed her partner before ramming the rear bumper of the red sedan causing it to do a 180 – pinning it between the side of a tunnel, her cruiser, and a ramp. Another BPD cruiser quickly blocked off the Taurus' only possible escape route.

            Julie rolled down the windows of her cruiser and drew her Glock.

            "Take cover behind your door."

            Shanahan nodded before drawing his gun and doing exactly that.

            The standoff lasted nearly an hour until the cops lucked out and the three dealers in the car peacefully surrendered along with 20 keys of uncut cocaine


	2. Welcome to Boston

            Adam Banks knew better, but he could not resist browsing his social media pages. His sapphire eyes narrowed at his phone screen. The trolls had been feasting on the news that the 32-year old former star was heading back to Boston in the hopes of reviving his injury-riddled career.

_Hey pretty boy…you think you can buy a pair of balls for $60 million?_

_BANK$ $UUUUCK$_

_I hope the Bruins will agree to be pallbearers at my funeral…that way they can let me down one last time._

            Adam actually managed a chuckle at that last message.

_At least one of them's creative._

            Deciding that he had enough morning inspiration, he grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, plugged his earbuds into his phone and began the walk to the hotel elevators, hoping to squeeze in an early workout before his press conference. The navy blue mesh shorts, plain white T-shirt, and gray sneakers clashed with his ritzy surroundings, but this particular hotel was used to accommodating professional athletes of all kinds, so he did not worry about receiving sideway glances.

            After making his way down the long hallway with plush oriental-patterned carpeting and oak walls, he arrived at the elevators and quickly got into an empty one. As the doors began to shut, a female voice called out.

            "Hold that door, please!"

            Adam complied and allowed in an attractive blonde woman in a smart black blazer and matching skirt that ended just above the knee. Her bright red blouse seemed to jump out of her dark coat, though her assets hardly needed the extra attention. Adam imagined that the woman — apparently a businesswoman of some sort — must be in her late 20s, or possibly her early 30s.

            "Thank you so much!" The woman flashed an appreciative grin, revealing a lovely set of pearly whites that were too straight to have occurred naturally.

            "No problem," Adam offered nonchalantly.

            The young woman's baby blue eyes took in the sight of her elevator companion, and Adam could tell that she liked what she saw. With his thick, light brown hair, dark blue eyes, and muscular six-foot-two-inch frame, he knew that his looks were a powerful weapon in seduction.

            "You here on a business trip?" He asked as the doors began to close again.

            She nodded.

            "'I'm afraid I can't elaborate. Company secret."

            Adam flashed an easy smile, causing the young woman to grin shyly.

            "You caught me," he 'confessed.' "I'm a corporate spy. Now since we're being so honest with each other…why don't you tell me your name? I'm Adam," he extended a hand which his companion shook.

            "Cynthia," she replied. "Nice to meet you."

_Hmm, she seems polite enough. But I don't think she recognizes me._

            "You're not into hockey, are you?" He asked as the elevator descended.

            Cynthia scrunched her face, giving the appearance of having bitten into a lemon.

            "No, I can't say that I'm a fan."

_Perfect!_

            Adam loved attractive women who did not follow hockey. After all, that meant that they had no way of knowing who he was.

            "Well, if you're not busy tonight, why don't you come up to Room 11A?" He asked. "I'm here on my company's dime too. A little bit of room service is _nothing_ to them."

            Cynthia grinned again as Adam continued.

            "Swing by at 8?"

            "Sounds good to me," she replied as the elevator stopped at the lobby floor. "Well, this is my floor. It was a pleasure to meet you, Adam."

            "The pleasure was all mine."

            Cynthia took her leave and Adam eyed his date for that evening as the doors began to close. Her corporate attire was a long way from revealing, but Adam could see enough of her long, shapely calves to realize that he was in for a treat. The elevator descended one more floor to the basement, which housed the hotel's pool and fitness center. He had arrived at 9 am, just as the facilities were opening, but this was not quite early enough for his satisfaction.

            He had ever allowed his nighttime activities to give him a late start. Whether he was on the road or at home, the NHL veteran made a point of getting in an early, intense workout every day. The hotel's gym was deserted, which suited him fine.

_Easier to get in the zone that way._

            After taking care to do some stretches, he slapped on two 50, 25, and 10-pound weights on each side of the bar connected to an inclined bench-press. The bar was connected to a sliding track with safety hooks, precluding the need for spotter. He fired up his workout playlist, took a seat on the bench and began pounding out reps.

            Having acquired a taste for Pantera from his friend and former high school teammate Charlie Conway, Adam found the music of the head-bangers to be ideal for workouts, and the group featured prominently on this particular playlist along with other heavy metal bands.

            Adam could feel the muscles in his chest and arms come to life as he pumped iron.

_Ten….down, inhale, exhale…eleven…down, inhale, exhale…twelve…_

            He completed fifty reps and immediately made his way over to the rack of free weights. Grabbing two 50-pound dumbbells, he took a seat on a vertical bench and began doing shoulder presses. Given the neck injury that shortened his playing season last year, this particular exercise had been excruciatingly difficult during his rehabilitation, but now he managed them with ease.

_Fifty more reps — done._

            He slid the bench down to its flat position and kept the dumbbells for curls.

_One, one…two, two…three, three…_

            It felt great to work his body without feeling a sharp, tearing pain in his neck and right shoulder. Combined with his new contract with a new team in a new city, Adam felt young again with a blank slate. By the age of 32, his hockey career had its share of peaks and valleys. But the valleys had become far more common in recent years.

            After a dazzling freshman year at Boston University, he was drafted by Tampa Bay, where he led the Lightning to the 2004 Stanley Cup and dominated the Eastern Conference. He earned All-Star honors in each of his four seasons in Tampa, along with Hart, Calder, and Art Ross Trophies for Most Valuable Player, Rookie of the Year, and Points Leader respectively.

            His staggering individual statistics landed him a massive contract with the Anaheim Ducks — formerly of Disney Mighty Ducks fame.

            Then came the injuries.

            To say nothing of all his dental implants, injuries from his Achilles to his neck had abbreviated all but two of the eight seasons he played after leaving Tampa. Despite earning an All-Star appearance during his one healthy season in Anaheim, he was traded to the New York Rangers after spending five years with the Ducks. After an All-Star season during his first year with the Rangers, he earned himself a 1-year contract extension and a hefty raise.

            Then came _more_ injuries.

            One particularly troublesome disc in his neck refused to remain in its proper place, and the nerve damage it created robbed his shot of most of its velocity while creating a huge target for rival defenders. Worse than the actual injury was the surgery and subsequent rehabilitation that forced him to ride the pine pony.

            After two more seasons with the Rangers that scarcely included any playing time, Adam was released and signed an improbably large contract with the Boston Bruins. The Bruin GM was a gambler, and Adam had a damn good — if rather overbearing — agent. Here was his fresh start.

_Forty-nine…fifty._

            Adam exhaled and sat up straight on the flat bench, having completed lying-down tricep extensions. With his strength training out of the way, he slugged some water before moving toward the wall of treadmills.

            "Fancy meeting you here," came a voice.

            But Adam could not hear the voice over his earbuds.

            He turned with a start as his visitor tapped him on the shoulder. The visitor's longish blond hair from high school was now closely-cropped. Light brown stubble now covered his face, and his slender frame had filled out over the years with lean muscle. But Adam recognized Guy Germaine immediately, and popped out his earbuds to greet him.

            "Hey, Guy! What's up, man?"

            Guy slapped Adam's outstretched hand and shook it before replying.

            "Just wanted to stop by and say hello," the blond forward began. "I figured you'd be in the gym at this hour."

            Adam looked over his old friend who was dressed in a pair of black Bruins gym shorts and a white T-shirt.

            "Well, it looks like you're dressed for the occasion," he observed. "Wanna take this conversation to the treadmills?"

            Guy nodded and stepped onto the machine to Adam's left. After bouncing all around the NHL for eight seasons — with stops in Philadelphia, Denver, Dallas, and Toronto —Guy had settled into a comfy niche in Boston over the last four seasons. He had even been made an alternate captain, and got to wear the letter A on his jersey for the first time since his days at Eden Hall.

            Now he was jogging next to the _othe_ r alternate captain from Eden Hall. Despite all of the promises to keep in touch, Guy barely knew his fellow Ducks anymore, and his old friendships had been eroded by time and geography. Adam was somewhat of an exception. As the only Ducks to make it pro, Adam and Guy at least kept in sporadic contact. Hotel gyms, bars, and restaurants gave the former linemates the chance to catch up whenever the other was in town.

            "Welcome to Boston, by the way," Guy offered. "I was thinking that maybe I could show you around?"

            Adam made a sour face.

            "I'd like that, but I can't," he replied. "I've got the press conference later today."

            "This evening is no good?"

            "Sorry, man. I got a date."

            Guy raised an eyebrow.

            "Already? You're not hooking back up with Julie, are you?"

            Adam's eyes widened at the mention of his old flame. He had forgotten all about Julie's connection to Boston.

_Is she still here after all these years?_

            Guy had observed Adam's surprised countenance and flashed a wry smile. Adam's reaction indicated to Guy that he had stumbled onto the truth, and that Julie and Adam were about to become Julie/Adam again.

            "Lucky you," the blond forward offered with a playful grin.

            "Don't get excited," Adam replied. "I'm only meeting with my agent. You know — to discuss endorsement opportunities."

            Guy deflated somewhat.

            "Oh. Of course."

            Guy was a solid role-player, but never the All-Star that Adam had been during his good years. Endorsement offers never came Guy's way, and he had to fight the feeling of jealousy that his friend's lucrative opportunities aroused in him. Little did he know that Adam's date night was with the woman he had met only minutes before in the hotel elevator, but Adam was never one to kiss and tell.

            "So how is Philip, anyway?" Guy asked.

            Philip Banks, Adam's father, had abandoned his law practice to become Adam's agent. The hockey dad made far more money in 12 seasons of representing his son than he had in over 20 years of practicing law in Minneapolis. Taking on his father as his agent seemed like a natural move to Adam when he was a 19-year old rookie. Now 32-years old, he was chaffing under his father's thumb. The business relationship with Philip had prevented father and son from moving on to the next stage of their relationship, and Philip still saw Adam as a kid to be ordered around.

            "Fan-fucking-tastic."

            "Sorry," Guy offered with an embarrassed look.

            "Don't worry about it. Anyway, are you free tomorrow? I'd love it if you could show me around then."

            "You bet."

            "Great!" Adam smiled before glancing at the panel of his treadmill. "Let's crank it up," he advised before dialing up the speed of his machine.

            Guy nodded and followed suit. The pair of Bruin forwards ran in silence for the next 45 minutes.

* * *

 

            Adam awoke the next morning to find Cynthia's head resting on his bare chest. Her long, blonde locks smelled of lotus flowers and her cream-colored skin felt like velvet against the thin, light brown hairs on his pectorals.

_Heh, she's gentle now._

            He thought back to the night before. He knew that they had not 'made love,' as the sentiment was completely absent. But if he had harbored any illusions about what transpired, they were brought into relief when he noticed the scratch marks on his chest.

_Too much clawing and biting for it to be 'love.'_

            But he had enjoyed himself nonetheless. Over the years he had developed a reliable feel for the types of women he encountered. In his experience, the well-dressed, buttoned-up, slightly reserved female professional was an absolute lioness between the sheets. Though cat metaphors made him uncomfortable, the comparison of lovers to a certain female goalie born in August were unavoidable.

            He had never forgotten about Julie Gaffney, though the prospect of her having remained in Boston over the years had never occurred to him either.

_I wonder if Guy's kept in touch with her._

            But Adam shrugged that thought off as he gently slid out from underneath Cynthia and set her head on a pillow.

_Deep sleeper, this one. Works for me though._

            After quietly throwing on some gym clothes, he left a note by the nightstand inviting Cynthia to order whatever she liked from room service and made his way to the hotel's fitness center for his morning workout. Having gone about his usual routine of stretching and getting his heart rate up through weightlifting, Adam went to the treadmills and was joined yet again by Guy.

            "Um…do you have a room here or something?" Adam asked as he began to speed-walk on one of the machines.

            "Nah, I've got an apartment a couple blocks away," Guy replied. "But I _am_ a captain. Part of my job is to help new players get settled in. And we're friends…I'm allowed to hang out with a friend, right?"

            "Heh, of course. Sorry, man. I'm looking forward to checking out the city with you today."

            Guy nodded.

            "Boston is the smallest city that I've played in," he replied. "But it's got a lot to offer."

            "Definitely," Adam agreed. "I was only here for a year back in college, but I loved it." They walked in silence for a few minutes before he continued. "So that's quite a draft class Nardelli got for us, isn't it?"

            "I'm very excited about these new players," Guy agreed. "Ladouceur, Halusic, and Viiatenen kicked all sorts of ass in Europe."

            Part of being an American in the NHL meant being a minority in a league dominated by Canadians, Russians and Europeans. But this was such an overwhelmingly obvious fact of life that Adam had ceased to notice it long ago. For a while, he even spoke the broken English that he picked up in the Tampa and Anaheim locker rooms from his foreign teammates. By the time he had arrived in New York, however, he had reverted to proper English, having been threatened by his father with speech lessons unless he gave up the 'dago talk.'

            "They should be great additions," Adam declared.

            The two continued to talk about Boston's improved roster as they walked. Eventually, they decided to pick up the pace and talking ceased once they had begun to run. Having finished their workouts, the pair of Bruins wiped the sweat from their brows with towels handed to them by an attendant on the way out of the gym.

            As Adam tossed his towel into the hamper outside of the door, his phone vibrated. His eyes widened as he saw a text message from Philip.

_Don't forget — house shopping today. Will swing by your room at 10:30 to pick you up. Be ready._

            "Shit, Guy, I'm sorry," Adam offered. "I forgot — I'm checking out houses with Dad today. I'll have to take another rain check for your tour of the city."

            "Hey, no worries."

            Guy knew that Philip Banks was not the sort to be kept waiting, and gave his old teammate a reassuring smile.

            Before Adam could thank Guy for his understanding, he remembered Cynthia.

            "Look, I gotta run," he announced. "I'll text you later!"

            He turned and sped-walked to the elevators before his friend could reply, leaving a confused Guy behind. The blond forward hoped that everything was alright with his old friend, but Adam was not around and he could not ask. Of course, there was always the possibility that Adam was simply blowing him off – a thought that Guy tried hard to dismiss.

            Guy Germaine was one of the few people in Boston who had been excited to learn that Adam Banks was coming to town. He had been looking forward to rekindling a neglected friendship, but had been rebuffed in his first attempts to do so.

_Heh, Ducks fly together._

            Once he had arrived on the 11th floor, Adam sprinted to his room, slid his keycard in and threw open the door to discover Cynthia seated at a round wooden table against the wall next to the sliding glass door that opened out onto the balcony. The blonde businesswoman was wearing a bathrobe had just poured a generous portion of Vermont maple syrup onto her French toast when Adam walked in.

            "Hey, handsome," she called out with a grin. "You're back just in time. I ordered for both of us, have a seat."

            Adam bit on his lip. It was 10:15. He had fifteen minutes to get Cynthia out of the room and to rid the place of any evidence of her. Not that he had any feelings for her, but he had always taken pride in treating his one night stands with respect the morning after. He approached the table with a grim expression on his face, but Cynthia paid no notice.

            "That was really sweet of you leaving a note," she offered. "I normally don't do this. But I've seen in the movies where the guy is always like 'you gotta go' the next day."

_Damn. She stole my line._

            "Sit down," she persisted, raising a champagne flute full of orange juice. "I ordered mimosas, cheers!"

            Adam raised the glass opposite of his companion, clinked it with hers and downed the alcoholic beverage in just a few gulps. He had to deal with his father, after all.

            "Heh, I guess _somebody_ was thirsty," she mused with a teasing smile. "Well, come on. Dig in. You earned it after last night."

            "Look…you gotta go."

            Cynthia's shocked expression quickly gave way to laughter.

            "Funny! That's a really good impression of an insensitive dick."

            But Adam's worried expression indicated that he was not joking.

            "My dad's gonna be here in a few minutes," he announced. "So you have to go. I'm sorry."

            Her eyes widened. The hot, confident guy who propositioned her in an elevator before giving it to her all night long was a terrified little daddy's boy. Or the world's lamest liar. Either way, she was sufficiently unimpressed to get up, gather her things and leave without saying another word.

* * *

 

            After checking out several houses in the suburbs, Adam found one in Lincoln that he liked enough to make an offer. Rather, Philip made the offer. One of the benefits of having his father manage his contracts was that he never ran the risk of overpaying for anything. But with the sound financial management that Philip brought to the table came stunted personal development for Adam. The father made it difficult for his son to live his life, make his own mistakes and learn from them.

            And Adam continued to feel, as he had throughout his entire childhood, the need to maintain the appearance of perfection for his father's benefit.

            Now he was home — or 'home' for at least the next several weeks. Having poured himself a tumbler of scotch, Adam dropped a single ice cube into his drink and walked onto the balcony of his hotel room. Despite the arrival of the evening, the sun was still out for its long June days. Taking a seat on a cushioned patio chair, he looked ahead to the lush, green expanses of Boston Common — established in 1634, it claimed the title of America's oldest park.

            It had also been Adam's favorite spot to go for walks with Julie during their year together at BU.

            Taking a sip of whisky, he was brought back to that week in August of 2000 when he moved into his freshman dormitory at Boston University nearly 14 years earlier.

_With the unpacking and uncomfortable goodbyes from his parents out of the way, Adam decided to unwind with a walk around campus with Julie._

_The pair of gifted hockey players had a few minor bumps during their high school relationship, but nothing out of the ordinary. Once they had accepted athletic scholarships to BU, Adam felt like he would be with Julie for the rest of his life. Here they were, more or less out on their own. No more Philip breathing down their necks, no more gossipy Ducks poking their noses into their relationship. Just college hockey and the girl of his dreams in a new city._

_What more could he have possibly wanted?_

_"Hey, baby," Julie called out with a grin._

_Adam approached, gently took her waist in his hands, and pulled her in for a kiss 'hello.'_

_"God, I missed you."_

_"Me too," she replied. "It was what, like four hours away from each other?"_

_"Very funny," he huffed. "Would you rather I_ didn't _miss you?"_

_"Aw, of course not!" She kissed him again. "I was only kidding."_

_He flashed a wry smile._

_"Had ya there, for a sec. Didn't I?"_

_She chuckled as she threw a light elbow into her boyfriend's hard stomach._

_"Yeah, you're a real master of deception," she teased before extending her hand. "Come on, let's see what this place has to offer."_

_Adam nodded and took her hand as they began to wander around campus, with no particular destination in mind. As they roamed the university's grounds, their high school teammates dominated their conversation. It had been tough for all of the Ducks to say goodbye, despite the excitement felt all around for beginning the next chapter of their lives._

_They would all keep in contact, Adam figured. After all, a promise is a promise. And Ducks fly together._

_As the couple arrived at the university's athletic complex, their minds drifted away from the past and toward the future._

_"So what are you going to major in?" Julie asked._

_Adam shrugged._

_"I'm undeclared," he replied. "Hopefully I won't be here for too long anyway."_

_Julie felt slightly hurt by her boyfriend's desire to move up to the NHL at the earliest possible opportunity, but she knew him too well to be surprised, and she appeared unfazed to him._

         Of course she'll follow me wherever I go, _Adam thought._

_"What about you?" He asked. "What do you want to study?"_

_Julie rolled her eyes. She had only mentioned her intended major a million times, but Adam kept forgetting about it._

_"Criminal Justice," she declared. "I figure they won't let me be the next Martin Brodeur, so I might as well be the next Special Agent Scully."_

_Adam chortled. The X-Files was their favorite TV show. He loved the sci-fi drama, even if Julie tended to go on and on about how hot David Duchovny was. It helped that whenever Julie declared her love for Special Agent Mulder, she added that 'he had nothing' on Adam. Besides, Gillian Anderson was hot — even though Adam took care never to admit that in front of Julie._

_"Doesn't Scully have an MD?" He asked._

_Julie nodded._

_"I can't get that right away," she replied. "Even doctors have to start with a bachelor's."_

_Adam had always been proud of Julie's academic achievements and ambitions. She had been the valedictorian of their graduating class at Eden Hall Academy, and it always amazed him just how effortlessly intelligent she was._

_But he felt the call of the hockey world. Books, however academic and informative, were only a distraction from training and game tape. He could never imagine himself doing all of the schoolwork that Julie seemed keen on._

And it’s not like she needs some fancy degree to be my wife, or to look after my children _, he thought._

            Adam downed the last of his scotch and moved to head back inside as a cool breeze set in. When he was younger, he felt like he had met his soulmate in Julie Gaffney. But it was not meant to be. Or maybe it was. After all, why did she cross his mind as frequently as she had over the past decade when he struggled to remember who he slept with a week ago? Putting away his tumbler, he sat down on a plush loveseat in the living room of his hotel suite. He wanted to contact Julie. Perhaps seeing her could clear-up these recurring thoughts. But how? That was when he remembered that he had promised to send Guy a text message.


	3. Persistent Memories

            Guy parked his white Cadillac CTS in front of his apartment building. The Boston forward was in high spirits, having shown three of the team's European rookies around town and snagging an awesome parking spot to boot. Having played hockey since the age of six, Guy was used to rough sports; but even hockey was no preparation for the blood sport that is parking in Boston.

            "Good evening, sir," the building's doorman greeted him and opened the front door.

            The blond forward nodded in reply before heading in. After grabbing a large stack of bills from his mailbox, Guy stepped into an elevator and made his way up to his apartment on the 10th floor. Situated in upscale Beacon Hill, the golden domes of State House were clearly visible from the apartment's spacious living room; and it was within easy walking distance to Boston Common, Chinatown, the Theatre District, and other sights – making it the ideal starting point for a tour of the city.

            While Guy's apartment was pure Boston on the outside, on the inside it was a shrine to hockey. Old jerseys, team photos and fan memorabilia adorned all of its interior walls. In the enclosed dining area next to the kitchen, a raggedy old Montreal Canadiens jersey featured prominently from inside a glass display. The tattered old Habs jersey dated back to Guy's District 5 days, where his team did not have a proper uniform of its own and players had to furnish their own red-colored jerseys.

            Despite playing for Montreal's arch-rival for the past four seasons, Guy could not bring himself to get rid of the old jersey – or move it to a more obscure location in his apartment. Living a life in the NHL meant that he was constantly on the go. Not only did he travel a great deal with his teams during the season, but he had moved from city to city playing for five different teams over the course of 12 seasons.

            Philadelphia. Denver. Dallas. Toronto. Now, Boston. Circumstances did not allow him to stay in one place, so he took as much as he could with him whenever he went some place new.

            Carelessly tossing his mail onto the glass-top coffee table in his living room, he took a seat on his black leather sofa and moved to fire up his PlayStation 4.

            Just then, the piercing noise of a telegraph alerted him to a new text message. After several frustrating seconds trying to fish his phone out of the front pocket of his jeans while sitting down, he got up with a grunt and managed to retrieve it at last. His hazel eyes widened at the sight of Adam Banks' name.

_Hey man. What's up?_

_Not much. Just got back from city tour with some of the rookies._

            Guy nearly added that the young Europeans had been looking forward to meeting the famous Adam Banks, but stopped himself at the last second. He certainly did not want Adam to think that he was hectoring him.

 _Cool,_ Adam responded. _I found a house that I like in Lincoln. Hopefully I won't be in the hotel much longer._

            Guy chuckled bitterly. Despite Adam's history of injuries and the risk that came with signing him, the former All-Star seemed confident that he was staying put in Boston. Even after four seasons in Beantown, Guy still felt expendable and was reluctant to put down roots and own a home, opting instead to rent.

 _That's nice,_ Guy finally texted back.

_Yeah. So here's a weird question. Do you have Julie Gaffney's number?_

            The blond forward was taken aback by Adam's question. He remembered earlier in the day when Adam had promised to send him a text. He figured that Adam wanted to work out a time to see the city with him. Apparently Adam was more interested in his old girlfriend.

 _IDK,_ Guy responded. _Let me check my contacts._

            He doubted that he had Julie's number stored. When he had first joined the Bruins, he had learned that Alyssa Browning, one of the team's trainers, was living with a woman named Julie Gaffney. He had given Alyssa his number in the hopes of reconnecting with an old teammate and friend, but never heard back from the former goalie.

            After a quick scan of his contacts confirmed that the only Julie in his phone was his aunt, Guy returned to Adam's texting window.

_No, sorry._

_Hey, no worries. Just thought I'd ask. Anyway, have a nice night._

_Thanks, but don't you want to reschedule our tour of the city?_

_Oh, that! I forgot!_

            Guy made a sour face as yet another old Duck lost interest in him.

_Hmm…I'm going to be meeting with realtors, next weekend…_

_You know what? Don't worry about it,_ Guy texted back.

 _It's nothing to worry about,_ Adam assured his old friend. _I'm sure I can pencil you in._

            Guy's teeth gritted. He was unsure if Adam was trying to be polite or insulting; but either way, he felt that he was talking to a dental secretary rather than a friend. He decided to end the exchange before he could lose his temper.

_Well, whenever you think you've got time, let me know. I gotta go right now._

_Oh, ok. Later, man._

            Guy gripped his phone and threw it across the living room, smashing it against the wall.

_Well, it was about time for an upgrade anyway._

* * *

 

            Captain George Devaney of the Boston Police Department twirled a pencil while he sat in his office at the precinct and waited for his appointment to arrive. The tall, paunchy veteran of the BPD had turned 45 only a few weeks earlier, and he had responded to his receding hairline by shaving it all off. His round, shiny 'chrome dome' and gravelly voice gave him a no-nonsense vibe, but the officers under his command found him to be an understanding and considerate leader.

            His brown eyes glanced at his closed office door as he heard a familiar knock.

_Ta-tata-ta._

            Though the glass on his door was glazed, he knew from the knock exactly who it was.

            "Come in, Gaffney!" He called out.

            The door opened and the 31-year old sergeant walked in.

            "You wanted to see me, sir?"

            Devaney nodded and indicated a gray chair across from his desk with a puffy white hand.

            "Have a seat, Gaffney."

            He smiled slightly as he observed the earnest sergeant sit down on the edge of the folding metal chair. She sat ramrod-straight, with her hands resting on her lap and looked directly at her commanding officer. The soft-spoken, but hardworking young woman from Bangor always needed to be instructed to relax.

            "Make yourself comfortable, Sergeant."

            "I am, sir," she replied without relaxing her rigid posture.

            Devaney nodded as he opened Julie's personnel file. A visibly uncomfortable Julie Gaffney pretending to be comfortable was all part of the routine. As competent as his sergeant was, she seemed to be wound awfully tight. He was amazed that she had lasted in law enforcement as long as she had. But she got results, so he did not complain.

            "Let me start by saying everything's good," he assured her. "Your record's immaculate, and I have nothing but nice things to say about your performance."

            Julie chewed her cheek as she waited for the other shoe to drop.

            "Let me ask you something," Devaney began. "Where do you see yourself five years from now?"

            "Well, as a lieutenant, sir," she replied. "If I'm lucky."

            Lieutenant was a step above sergeant, and a rank below captain. It was the bottom rung on the senior officer's ladder, complete with private office space, and it was the best that Julie felt she could hope for.

            "Really?" He asked. "Your sights aren't higher than that?"

            "I only aim for the possible."

            "And you don't consider FBI Special Agent possible?"

            Julie's stoicism broke as her eyebrows flew up in surprise. It had been her dream since senior year at Eden Hall to be a Fed. She would get to investigate fascinating cases that put her mind to the test while serving her country and experiencing new adventures on a daily basis.

_That and being a real-life Dana Scully._

            "I was invited to Quantico five years ago," she reminded her boss. "But it didn't work out."

            Devaney nodded.

            "But through no fault of your own," he pointed out. "Your mother was sick and you wanted to stay close to home."

            Julie twisted her lips as she remembered her mom. Michelle Gaffney had been diagnosed with ovarian cancer when Julie had received the good news. Once Julie had pried the bad news out of her mother, she resolved to stay in New England and set aside her dream of joining the FBI. Within a year, Michelle was dead and so were Julie's prospects at the Bureau.

            "I'm not trying to rehash bad memories," Devaney assured Julie. "What I _am_ trying to tell you is that I have talked to the Special Agent-In Charge in Boston, and he's ready to help you get your foot in the door. Even with your law enforcement experience, you'll still have to go to Quantico; then you'll be on probation in DC for a year before you get your first assignment…which could be just about anywhere in the United States."

            Julie was speechless. The FBI never went after potential agents who had already turned them down. She had been resigned to spending the rest of her career slowly climbing the ranks at the BPD, and was stunned that she had been presented with a second opportunity of a lifetime.

            Then she remembered.

            "Am I to interpret your stunned silence as a yes?” Devaney asked.

            "Uh, no. Sorry, sir," she replied. "I appreciate you sticking your neck out for me, but I can't accept. My dad is still in New England, and I want to stay close to him. And there's James, my boyfriend. I can't expect him to give up his practice and follow me to Virginia and beyond."

            Devaney raised a bushy brown eyebrow.

            "James Lawton, that slick hotshot from the DA's office?"

            "He's been in private practice for several years now."

            "So presumably, he can afford an engagement ring."

            "With respect, sir…you're worse than my roommate."

            Devaney's gut looked about ready to send the buttons on his shirt for a ride as he laughed, eliciting a faint smile from Julie.

             "Okay, fair enough," he replied. "But there's still time…I don't need to pass along a final decision to the Bureau just yet. So will you at least think about it?"

            Julie nodded.

            "Sure. I guess that can't hurt."

            "Good. In the meantime, Shanahan's diapers won't change themselves. So off you go."

            Julie chortled as she rose from her seat.

            "Yes, sir. And thank you."

            She turned and left the Captain's office, making her way into the squad room. As Officer Nick Coulson observed Julie walk out Devaney’s door, he let out a faux-shocked _oooh._

            "Had to see the Principal, eh Gaffney?"

            Julie rolled her eyes but flashed a polite smile at the short, wiry plainclothes cop with dark brown hair. Working at a police station felt remarkably similar to life in high school at times.

            "Hey, lay awff 'er, Coulson," Will Shanahan piped up. "Just cuz you didn't make the hahnah roll with a fahkin' gold stah, that's no reason to be jealous."

            "Heh, I guess," Coulson replied. "But what can I say? It hurts that I'll never be Class President."

            "Now, now," Julie replied in a faux-sympathetic voice. "You'll always be the coolest kid in CSI, and you know it."

            The Crime Scene Investigations Unit was the police world's equivalent to the chess club in high school. The nerdy parallel was not lost on Coulson.

            "Nerds will inherit the earth, Gaffney," he declared as he turned to leave. "And don't you forget it!"

            Once Coulson had left, Julie turned to her rookie partner from South Boston.

            "Ready to hit the streets?"

            "Sure am, Sahdge," he replied. "Can I do the driving this time… _please?"_

            The six-foot, four-inch young man could have passed for a schoolboy as he looked down with pleading eyes at his sergeant.

            "Alright, but only because you said _please.”_

            "Wicked!"

            Shanahan turned and nearly sprinted to the precinct's garage, prompting Julie to roll her eyes. Not for the first time, she felt like she was training a puppy.

* * *

 

            Julie parked her rented Ford Focus in the driveway that led up to her childhood home in Bangor, Maine. With the 4th of July falling on a Friday, a three-day holiday weekend was in the works and Julie took advantage of the extra time off by flying to Maine. During the flight to Augusta and the 60-mile drive that followed, she privately cursed her father for not moving to the coast or some place with a direct flight from Boston.

            But as she arrived at the large colonial house with its gray stone facade, Julie forgot all about the remoteness of her hometown and the difficulty in traveling to it. She was home again and that was all that mattered. Settled on top of a small hill nestled between dense, green woods on one side of a single-lane road, and the mighty Penobscot River behind the backyard, the house had separate chimneys on each end of the original structure and identical white-shingled wings that had been added by a previous owner who needed the extra room to accommodate his large family.

            It was far too much house for a 59-year old widower nearing retirement, but Pat Gaffney would only give up the deed to his cherished home once it was pried from his cold, dead fingers.

            Stepping out into the early July sun, Julie noticed the parked cars of her brother, her sister, and her Aunt Nancy further up the driveway. Breathing-in the smell of pine tar and freshly-cut grass, she popped the trunk of her car and moved to grab her bags when her brother Brian came barreling down the front steps with their father Pat trailing slowly behind.

            "Hey, Sis!" The barrel-chested 25-year old called out as he wrapped his surprised sister in a bear hug.

            "Hey, Brian!" Julie returned the hug as her father approached.

            Both Pat and Brian were tall men who were on the heavy side, but their soft midsections and round faces gave both of them a jolly air. While Brian had a thick head of sandy blond hair that matched his sister's natural shade, Pat was all-gray. Like Julie's, their eyes were that unmistakable shade of Gaffney green.

            Pat tapped his son on the shoulder.

            "My turn."

            Brian nodded and released his sister, allowing Pat to swoop in and embrace Julie.

            "It's so great to see you!" He exclaimed.

            "Aw, it's nice to see you too," Julie replied as she returned the hug. "James is sorry he couldn't make it, but he sends his love."

            "Heh," Pat snorted as he released his daughter. "I'm sure he does."

 _Great,_ Julie cursed to herself. The James-bashing had begun in earnest already. She was aware of the fact that her father had disliked all of her boyfriends beginning with Adam – a fact that she had always attributed to a father's natural inclination to dislike whoever his daughter was seeing at the moment. But James was an unpopular figure with Julie's roommate Alyssa, and Captain Devaney, among other important people in Julie's life. And Julie was getting sick of people trashing him.

            "Here, let me take that," Brian broke the uncomfortable silence as he grabbed a travel bag that Julie had set down on the pavement.

            Pat nodded and grabbed a large olive green suitcase from the trunk.

            "No, Dad — I'll get that," Julie protested.

            "No, I got it!" He insisted.

            Pat had been diagnosed with multiple sclerosis two years earlier, and Julie did not like to see her father exert himself. But for all of their differences in taste, interests, hobbies and the like, one thing that all Gaffneys had in common was a stubborn pride.

            Julie closed the trunk and watched as Brian charged up the stairs and through the front door with a relatively light travel bag, while Pat slowly trudged behind with a heavy suitcase. The former goalie wanted nothing more than to go up to her father, gently take the suitcase from him, and proceed up the stairs. But she knew that was not an option.

            It took her only a few short seconds to close the distance between her father and herself, and she was only one step below him as he continued the slow climb.

            "So, you gonna do some fishing later on?" He asked once he reached the middle step.

            "Definitely – at dawn tomorrow."

            "Ah, that's my girl!" Pat enthused. "Like a true fisher!"

            The dock behind the house was where he had taught Julie how to fish, and was the place Julie loved most about her childhood home.

 _Geez. She got a dead body in here, or what?_ Pat complained to himself. But he knew better than to verbalize it. Had he done so, he could expect a long argument with his daughter over who should carry the suitcase…and he would still have half a flight of stairs to go once he finally got her to give it up.

_One step…two steps…three steps._

            "So I hear that your old boyfriend is back in Boston."

            "Oh, Adam? Yeah. We'll see how long that lasts."

            "You two been in touch?"

            "Heh, no. He's a professional hockey player and I'm a cop. We live in completely different worlds."

            "That's a shame," Pat offered. "He always seemed like such a nice young man."

            Julie's eyes widened in shock. Her dad actually _liked_ one of her boyfriends?

            "Of course, he seems nicer now than he did back then," he clarified. "Looking back, it's not like he ever strung you along."

_Ah yes, more James bashing. Let's see, what else has Dad got on him? He's an old guy who only wants me for my body?_

            "I mean, a year or two in age difference is not a big deal," Pat continued as he shuffled up the stairs. "But twelve years is a lot. What could a guy like that want with a younger woman?"

_Good ol' predictable Dad._

`           "All I know is that I love him," Julie replied.

            Pat twisted his lips.

            "Well as long as you're happy…"

            "I am!"

            "…I won't keep pestering you about him."

            "Good."

            Pat looked up at his front door step. _Four more steps to go._ He breathed in and made the final push up to the main entrance of the house, being greeted by the smell of blueberry crisp wafting in from the kitchen as he stepped inside.

            "Your sister is such an amazing cook," he declared as he reached into the front pocket of his khaki shorts and pulled out a handkerchief.

            "That she is," Julie agreed.

            "Dad, is that you?" Julie's sister, Debbie, called out.

            Pat wiped the sweat off his brow.

            "Yes, dear!" He called back. "I'm just helping Julie get settled!"

            Julie reached for the handle of her suitcase.

            "I've got this, Dad," she offered. "Thank you for carrying it up the stairs, but I can take it from here."

            Pat reluctantly released the heavy cargo. Had it just been the two of them, he would have carried the suitcase all the way to Julie's bedroom. But Debbie and the rest of the family was home for the holiday, and he was keen to avoid any tension between his daughters. Had Debbie caught Pat carrying Julie's luggage, the results would not have been pretty.

            "Off you go, then," he replied. "Once you get settled, help yourself to anything you want. We've got plenty of chilled Moxie."

            "You know I will!" Julie stated with a grin as she began the walk to her old bedroom.

            Once her father had agreed to stop pestering her about her boyfriend, she felt good about being home again. She would have to work extra hard to burn Debbie's cooking off once she returned to Boston, but the holiday weekend promised to be an enjoyable one. Julie had no idea how, but her room still contained a faint aroma of nail polish, and the familiar smell prompted a smile as she crossed the threshold into her room.

            Pat — or rather, the maid service he hired — kept Julie's old room clean, and it looked like a miniature museum to the '90s. Whether it was the Savage Garden poster above the headboard, the big, heavy black square that produced heat and was her decidedly non-flat screen TV, her VCR, or her extensive VHS collection that included gems like _Clueless_ and _Ace Ventura_ , the place looked exactly how she left it in the summer of 2000.

            As her eyes scanned her old bookshelf, she doubted that any of the volumes had been disturbed over the years either. Looking at the books from left to right, she could see how her youthful taste had evolved from R.L. Stine to Jane Austen and Charlotte Brontë.

            Her father's words played back to her in her mind as her eyes drifted to the bottom shelf that contained her high school yearbooks. Each one contained loads of photographs of Adam and herself, both as a couple and individually.

_So I hear that your old boyfriend is back in Boston — you two been in touch?_

            Adam Banks had a Beetlejuice-like effect on Julie. Once his name was mentioned, he tended to stick around long after he had worn out his welcome.

            "Heh, _Beetlejuice,"_ she mused out loud. "I wonder if I still have that tape."

            She turned and opened the cabinet beneath the TV stand and after a quick search, found what she was looking for. She fished out the _Beetlejuice_ cassette tape and set it on her nightstand with the intention of watching it after the fireworks.

            But try as she did to push Adam out of her consciousness, his specter kept pushing back.

            She grabbed her phone and went to the text messaging thread she had with James.

 _Just arrived in Bangor, safe and sound. I love you,_ she typed before sending the message, as if to prove to herself the identity of the man she really loved.

            Setting her phone down, she hoisted her suitcase onto the bed, opened it up, and began to unpack. As she went about hanging her clothes in the closet and sliding her undies into the dresser drawer, she focused on the task at hand…not on her personal Beetlejuice.

            Then came a problem. With the unpacking complete, she had nothing else to concentrate on. She could not help thinking back to the day after that disastrous Semi-Formal her freshman year. How Scooter had humiliated her and left with his ex-girlfriend. How Adam came and kept her company in the cold, lending her his overcoat, and walking her back to her dormitory.

            He called her the next day, arranging to meet her outside the girl's dorm so he could take his coat back. The poor boy had kissed her the night before, and spent several minutes profusely apologizing for it over the phone, despite Julie's insistence that it had been cool. Eventually, he hung up and made his way over.

      Julie giggled as she remembered his deer-in-the-headlights look when he saw her that day.

_"Um…not to be rude, but where's my coat?" He asked._

_"I'll give it back to you, don't worry," she replied. "But don't you want to come in and visit me first?"_

_She had not thought it possible, but Adam's sapphire eyes somehow grew even wider._

_"Isn't that against the rules?"_

_"I won't tell if you won't."_

_He swallowed nervously._

_"Just come around to the side door…that way the dorm supervisor won't see you," she instructed._

            "And the rest, as they say…is history," a 31-year old Julie said to herself back home in Bangor.

            She looked down as her phone vibrated. A message from James.

_Thanks for the text. I love you too, doll._

            Julie felt a pang of guilt over her inability to forget about Adam and love James exclusively and completely. And to make matters more complicated, the job offer from the FBI had remained on the table.

            She let out a sigh as she left her bedroom and went to be with her family, eager to forget about work and men.


	4. Punching Bags and Other Essentials

            Adam felt like a 19th century Southern plantation owner as he watched movers and utility workers scurry around his new 16,400 square foot mansion in Lincoln, Massachusetts. Despite the fact that the plumbing and natural gas still needed to be put on line the day he had arrived, at least the mansion's air conditioning had been fully operational. Being the first day of August, flushing toilets could wait as long as he had cool air.

            Situated on 17 acres between two ponds – including the historic Walden Pond of Thoreau fame – Adam's new fortress of solitude boasted 36 rooms, a 4-stall garage that housed his silver Bentley Mulsanne and red Ferrari 458; a heated Olympic-sized pool with a connected hot tub; a fully-equipped home fitness center; six fireplaces; an expansive fenced-off garden; a central vacuuming system, and a massive kitchen that included a wood-fired brick oven in addition to all of the latest appliances.

            Not that he ever cooked or cleaned, but Adam was keen to make life easier for the hired help.

            Built in the style of a Norman manor house, the imposing edifice with its taupe stucco exterior was his latest, grandest – and he hoped final – hockey home. He had no idea where life would take him once his body finally said 'no more,' but he liked the idea of living close to a frozen pond that only he and one other household had access to.

            "Adam!"

            The 32-year old forward looked toward his father, Philip with a start. Now in his mid-60s, the Banks patriarch stood at just over six feet, but his authoritative air and stiff posture made him look even taller. He had lost all of his hair on top, and the closely-cropped ring around the sides and back of his head had gone snow white. But his piercing blue Banks eyes had remained as sharp as ever.

            "Yes, Dad?"

            "Don't you think that you'd be better off trying out your new gym?" Philip suggested. "Rather than just standing idle?"

            "I was just directing the movers," Adam replied. "I want to make sure that everything gets put in the right place."

            "I can take care of that," Philip insisted. _"You_ get yourself downstairs and build up your strength. I can't land your next contract if you shatter like glass again."

            The younger Banks twisted his lips into an uncomfortable scowl. He could not even be the master in his own house. But he also could not have gone as far as he had without his father, however domineering the old man could be. Whether it was the private skating lessons and hockey camps of Adam's childhood that were paid for out of Philip's pocket, or the improbably large contracts he had secured for his injury-prone son, Adam's success and Philip's iron will were inexorably linked.

            It certainly felt that way to Adam as he looked back at his father. Despite being taller than Philip, Adam's slouch actually caused him to look up at his old man.

            "You're right, Dad," he agreed. "I'll get to it."

            Philip nodded shortly before he turned to a pair of movers who had just set down a rich, cream-colored sofa where Adam had directed them.

            "Move that back!" Philip snapped, pointing to the sofa. "Why the _hell_ would you put that so close to the fireplace?!"

            The sweaty young workers looked over to Adam, who gave an apologetic semi-smile.

            "Do what he says," the hockey player instructed the movers. "I'll be in the gym."

            As he turned and made his way to the master bedroom to change into his gym clothes, he privately decided to change-up his workout routine. Rather than follow his stretches with weightlifting before moving on to cardio, he was going to go straight to the punching bag.

_I can't wait for him to fly back to Minnesota._

            One of the major downsides of staying in the hotel for the past month and a half was that he was that his father was always close by. Now that he was settling into in a real home, Adam could look forward to Philip's return to Edina. Little did Philip know, but the no-trade clause that Adam had demanded in his contract with the Bruins had been put in place specifically so the younger Banks could nix any attempt to deal him to the Minnesota Wild and his father's backyard.

            As Adam made his way across the master bedroom toward his walk-in double closet, he mused that he had more living space in that one room than he had in his entire 5-star hotel suite. Just getting around in the vast house would provide a nice warm-up to any serious workout. Donning a white T-shirt and an old pair of blue Rangers gym shorts, Adam grabbed a pair of white sneakers from the closet wall that was dominated by shoe cubbies.

            Making his away across the spacious bedroom – which included a small living room of its own, complete with a big-screen TV and sitting area – Adam made a mental note to get an extra Treadclimber so he could work off any stress without having to go all the way down to his gym.

_And a punching bag. Definitely have to have a punching bag. In fact, why not have one in every room, even the kitchen? Burnt toast…ba-da-bing!_

            He was already beginning to zone out as he moved past various 'worker bees' and he had not even noticed the thunderous sound of his father's voice booming out orders and instructions. The thought of whaling away on a punching bag while picturing his father's craggy visage was a powerful workout muse, and Adam was beginning to feel a strong gravitational pull toward his gym once he had reached the basement.

            Throwing open the clear glass door that separated the gym from the basement hallway, he stepped onto the black rubber floor and marched past the dumbbell racks and various Nautilus machines.

_There you are, my love._

            Squaring up against the full-sized black punching bag that hung from a chain, Adam took a deep breath as he moved to channel his fury.

            As his bare knuckles connected sharply with the hapless piece of exercise equipment, he thought back to all the times his father had told him what to do. Naturally, this took quite a lot of time. Thoughts of his other routine exercises vanished as he pummeled the bag. Time itself disappeared as he went to town.

            His long, muscular arms had become shiny with perspiration, and sweat from his brow had begun to drip down to the floor. His breathing had become more labored, but the Bruin forward continued to attack the punching bag as he worked through a lifetime of browbeating memories.

            Then came the moment that Philip had walked in on him and Julie.

            "Ooof!"

            A winded Adam fell back and landed on his butt as the punching bag swung back and knocked him down.

_A 17-year old Julie let out a satisfied moan as her toes curled. Lying nude beneath the sheets of Adam's bed, she felt left out in the cold as her boyfriend moved off of her and onto his own sliver of the twin bed. Sensing his girlfriend's discomfort, Adam gently lifted Julie's head off the pillow and wrapped an arm around her bare shoulders, holding her close to his warm chest._

_Though he did not look like it from the outside, he felt like a human heat pump on the inside. It had been his first, as well as Julie's. A combination of break-ups, stretches of being single, and brief relationships with other people had helped the pair of young lovers to preserve their chastity until senior year of high school._

_Each time, they had broken up for that classic teenage reason: making mountains out of molehills. A stray smile or flattering remark to a member of the opposite sex – both directly witnessed and rumored through others – was enough to make Julie and Adam break up. But they always returned to each other, and the pain of separation seemed to intensify their love, as losing the other began to hurt more and more as they went through those crucial years at Eden Hall._

_Her parents had allowed her to stay with Connie in Minnesota for spring break, giving her all the time in the world to be with the boy who made her heart skip a beat. Naturally, Connie's house belonged to her and Guy most of the time, forcing Julie to visit Adam's house for time with him._

_Holding her close, Adam planted a tender kiss on Julie's forehead._

_"More already?" She teased with a playful smile._

_"Nah. I just want to hold you."_

_And she wanted to be held. So she planted her head onto her boyfriend's chest. As her fragrant dark blonde locks brushed past Adam's nose, he let out a sneeze._

            Ugh. Way to kill the moment, _he cursed to himself._

_But she continued to lay still, as if nothing had happened — her contented grin remaining firmly in place._

      Is it any wonder why I love her?

_The moment had not died at Adam's hands, but it was about to at those of his father. The boy's heart leapt into his throat as his bedroom door creaked open._

_"Adam, why aren't you…." Philip trailed off as he observed his son in bed with Julie._

            A 32-year old Adam let out a bitter chuckle as he planted his palms onto his gym floor and pushed himself up onto his feet. Philip had returned home early that day 14 years ago to discover that Adam had not been working out in the family's basement like he was supposed to. Instead, he had been busy losing his virginity to some 'tart.'

            Adam and Julie had continued to see each other in secret for the last two months of high school. Both of their athletic scholarships to Boston University had already been signed, and there was nothing Philip could do about that – apart from instructing his son to stay away from 'the whore.'

            Memories of how his father had behaved toward Julie and the nasty things that he said about her would ordinarily be enough to fuel a long session with the punching bag. But Adam was spent. He had lost track of time once he stepped into the shower in the small bathroom that adjoined the gym.

            This particular bathroom had yet to be stocked with body wash and shampoo, but the water felt good on his skin. The absence of body wash and shampoo, however, alerted him to something else that was missing: towels.

_Fan-fucking-tastic._

            Turning off the water, he stepped out of the shower stall, leaving a trail of water on the white tile floor as he squished his way toward his dirty gym clothes. He had no idea whether or not the movers or his father were still around; so he was unwilling to take his chances going commando, however dirty the sweaty gym clothes made him feel.

_The last time he saw me naked was traumatic enough._

            As he made his way up to the ground floor, he could see that he was alone, and that the automatic lighting had kicked in with the arrival of the night.

_Damn. How long was I at that thing?_

            He looked around at his luxurious, but unfamiliar new surroundings in search of the time, but came up empty.

_Note to self: Clocks and punching bags. Two things no room can be without!_

            Feeling a hunger pang, he decided to abandon his futile quest in search of a clock and made his way over to the kitchen instead. Observing the green numbers 8:15 on the microwave clock, he realized that he had been whaling away on the punching bag for five and a half hours.

_Heh, what can I say? Dad's got a punchable face._

            Speaking of the old man, Adam discovered a note from Philip on the kitchen island informing him that he was to eat the antipasto in the fridge for dinner and two protein bars in the pantry for breakfast. A chef would swing by at 9 o'clock the next morning to prepare Adam's meals for the next several days and then store them in the refrigerator.

            After spending several frustrating minutes searching for the silverware, Adam grabbed a fork, then opened the door to his massive wood-paneled door to his refrigerator that matched the kitchen's hickory cabinets. Inside, there was nothing but a white polystyrene box containing the takeaway salad, a gallon of skim milk, and two dozen chilled bottles of water.

            Once he had finished his light supper of antipasto and water, he climbed the stairs and made his way to the master bedroom. He thought about contacting Guy, but was unsure what the cutoff time for calls was. The blond forward had seemed butt-hurt to Adam during team meetings, and he had no idea why. He worried about antagonizing Guy further by calling him too late at night.

            After ensuring that the linen cabinet in the master bathroom was fully stocked, he took a quick shower – complete with body wash and shampoo – before he heard his text alert from the other side of the bathroom door. Throwing on a towel, he went to the bed where he had left his phone that afternoon before his workout, and found a new text message from Jean Ladouceur, the Franco-Swiss rookie defenseman for the Bruins.

_Hey, Banks. Renting a stretch limo with the boys to go clubbing. You in?_

            The 32-year old grinned at the thought of all the hot chicks that would be there for the picking.

 _American women around guys with European accents?_ He thought to himself. _Like shooting fish in a barrel!_

 _Hell yeah, I'm in!_ Adam texted back before sending the address of his new house.

_Great. We'll be over in 20._

* * *

 

            "So, how's the swordfish, Doll?" James asked Julie as they dined beneath the turquoise awning of the Atlantic Fish Company, a high-end seafood restaurant on Boylston Street.

            "Unbelievably good," she replied honestly.

            Setting down her fork, Julie decided against stuffing her face and opted to bring home the leftover half of her swordfish steak. The Boston cop had been in an optimistic mood on the day of her 32nd birthday, and the rare sunny day in the notoriously rainy city seemed to portend good fortune. She had been dreading the arrival of August 15th ever since Devaney had informed her of his FBI recommendation.

            Having made up her mind only a few days earlier, Julie could enjoy her birthday comfortable in the knowledge that she was staying put. She knew that she had passed up her lifelong ambition yet again, and that a third chance would in all likelihood never present itself.

            But as she looked across the table to the handsome, distinguished man who had taken her out to her favorite restaurant, she felt that she had made the right call. Childhood dreams had to be sacrificed for adult realities.

_And reality with James ain't half bad._

            "Julie," he called to her gently, prompting her to look up.

            His steely gray eyes looked unusually soft to her. She even sensed just a tad of uncertainty in them.

            "Yes, darling?"

            He reached across the round, white linen-covered table and grasped her hands.

            The nagging bit of Julie's mind that had chastised her for turning down the FBI dropped dead as she anticipated a marriage proposal from her boyfriend of three years.

 _It was all worth it,_ she thought, fighting back tears of joy.

            "I've been doing a lot of thinking," James continued. "And I've decided…don't you think it's time you move in to my place?"

            The former goalie deflated somewhat.

            "Oh," she replied softly, but quickly regained her composure. "That's a great idea!"

            The 'proposal' had not been as concrete as she had been hoping for, but she reasoned that it was a step in the right direction. She had never been one of those girls who dreamed about her wedding day, but the arrival of her 32nd year served to remind her that she would not be young forever. That very morning she observed with disquiet the wrinkles that had formed around the corners of her eyes.

            Upon hearing Julie's approval, James grinned broadly – showing off a flawlessly straight and capped set of glistening white teeth.

            "I'm so glad you're ready for this!" He enthused. "I didn't know how ready you were to share an apartment with two rambunctious youngsters on weekends."

            Andrew and Kate were the 12 and 8-year old children from James' previous marriage who visited him at his Beacon Hill apartment on weekends.

            Julie rolled her eyes at her boyfriend's unflattering characterization of the pair of youngsters she regarded as her stepchildren in all but name.

            "They're hardly _rambunctious,"_ she replied. "And you know I love them," she added truthfully.

            James' picture-perfect grin remained firmly in place as he considered his luck. Sitting across from him was a beautiful, loving, sophisticated and intelligent woman who honestly did not look at his children as unwanted extras. He wanted to wake up every morning next to her; but he was still paying alimony to his ex, and was in no rush to marry again.

            "Heh, I guess they're alright," he agreed. _"Omnia vincit amor."_

            "Love conquers all – Virgil," Julie translated.

            "Very good," he responded, pleased but not surprised. "Waiter — a bottle of Dom when you get a minute, please."

            "Right away, sir."

            Julie's eyes widened at James' casual purchase of pricey champagne.

            "Well we have to celebrate your move, don't we?" He asked. "Some things in life are essential, and decent bubbly is one of those things."

            "Touché."

            The chilled Dom Pérignon soon arrived, and the Virgil quote led to a long discussion of Conn Iggulden's _Emperor_ Series that both Julie and James had enjoyed immensely. As Julie finished her glass, she was privately grateful for the hefty price tag that came with that particular wine.

_This stuff goes down way too easy._

            Part of Julie wanted to slap herself upside the head for pushing her refilled glass back to James instead of downing it right then and there. But Sergeant Gaffney had imposed her will on Julie the Hedonist and limited the latter to one glass.

            James was loath to let $200 champagne go to waste, so he downed the rest of the bottle after Julie had cut herself off – prompting the sergeant to extend her open palm across the table and demand the keys to her boyfriend's car, which he duly surrendered.

            "I think you just wanted an excuse to drive an Audi, but whatever," he teased.

            "I've made greater sacrifices than that to keep the streets of Boston safe," she replied, stifling a grin.

* * *

 

            Adam Banks felt on top of the world after his first full team practice as a Boston Bruin. Although  Ristuccia Memorial Arena was a new venue to him, the Bruins training facility already felt like home to the 12-year NHL veteran. Physically, he had to go all the way back to his epic year at Boston University to remember the last time he felt so good.

            And if the fans of Boston were lukewarm in the reception they gave the injury-prone star, the players – especially the younger ones – treated him like a god. Here he was, the great Adam Banks in tip-top shape, ready to lead the Bruins back to glory.

            And of course, the ladies of the Boston club scene had been _exceedingly_ good to him.

            With Philip having returned to Minnesota two weeks earlier, Adam felt like the man of the house; and he saw to it that there was never a shortage of beautiful women or punching bags at his Lincoln mansion.

_Some things are essential, after all._

            Guy had even appeared to have gotten over his 'butt-hurt' and was treating Adam like he had during their time together at Eden Hall – basically friendly, but mostly separate. And that combination fit Adam like a glove. But if Adam had failed to notice the emotional pain that his attitude inflicted on Guy, he definitely noticed that the blond forward had been favoring his right wrist as they began moving off the ice toward the locker room tunnel.

            Adam knew a thing or two about bad wrists, after all.

            "Hey, Guy…your wrist bothering you?"

            "I'm sure it's nothing."

            But their head coach, Claude Bernier, overheard.

            "Get it checked out, Germaine," the stocky, bald Québécois ordered his alternate captain as he walked ahead toward the locker room.

            "Yes, Coach," Guy called back, scanning the crowd for Daryl Montrose, his go-to trainer on the team's staff.

            But the short, gray-haired trainer was nowhere to be seen. The tall, athletic brunette, Alyssa Browning however, was highly visible.

_Shit._

            Guy had always had a thing for the long-legged trainer with cascading chestnut hair, porcelain skin, and honey brown eyes – essentially a taller version of his boyhood crush Connie Moreau. And the Bruins had a strict non-fraternization policy in place.

            Not that Guy doubted Alyssa's professionalism, but he had always been reluctant to be examined by a trainer who could make him get a hard-on.

            "It's probably nothing," he said to no one in particular, as Bernier had already gone ahead into the locker room.

            "Just do what Coach says," Adam advised his linemate. "If it's a little thing, you might as well take it easy – that way it won't turn into a big thing when the season starts."

_Did he really have to say 'big thing?!'_

            Alyssa had overheard Bernier's instructions and approached the players in the tunnel. Once she had gotten close, she put a hand on Guy's shoulder and stopped him dead in his tracks.

_Lord, help me now._

            "Come on," she began, ushering him away from his teammates. "Let's have a look at that in my office."

            As he had no other choice, Guy agreed and followed the comely brunette into the cramped closet of a room that looked like a cross between a high school gym teacher's office, and a high school nurse's.

            Once her charge was seated on a gray physician's bench, Alyssa gently examined Guy's wrist and instructed him to do a few light twists and lifting exercises with it. After determining that the forward was suffering from a minor sprain, she wrapped the wrist in a tight compress and iced it for a good fifteen minutes while the other Bruins cleared out of the training facility.

            Guy had been dead silent the entire time.

            Deciding that she could not take the awkward silence anymore, Alyssa moved to break it.

            "You guys looked really good out there," she offered. "Stanley Cup or bust, eh?"

            "You know it," he replied with an easy smile.

            "That Banks guy looks _really_ good," she continued. "I just hope he doesn't go to pieces like he did in New York."

            "He's definitely going to be our X-factor," Guy agreed. "I've never seen him more motivated, and I've known him for a long time. Like he really, _really_ wants to prove that he's still got it."

            "Have you guys been hanging out?"

            Guy chuckled bitterly.

            "Mr. Superstar is a little too busy for Mr. Role Player," he explained. "I think I'd have better luck arranging a sit-down in the Oval Office with the President of the United States," he added with a frown.

            "Aww."

            Guy looked up with a start as he felt Alyssa grasp his left arm in sympathy. The trainer had only just noticed what she was doing and immediately recoiled.

            "Sorry about that," she offered.

            "I won't sue for workplace harassment, don't worry."

            Alyssa let out a cute little giggle that Guy found intoxicating.

            "Thank you for that," she replied. "But in all seriousness…you wanna head over to my place, for a total non-date with a coworker? You seem like you could use a friend."

            She had no idea how right that sentiment was. Not only had Adam been unavailable to Guy, but the former All-Star's arrival had sucked all of Guy's teammates away from him. All the guys wanted to hang out with the super cool Adam Banks. Not the hardworking, dutiful, and relatively boring Guy.

            "I'd like that," he replied.

            Alyssa nodded before moving to grab her things. With Julie out on the town with James for her birthday, she would have the townhouse to Guy and herself for the day. But the trainer was keen to make sure that the hockey player left before her roommate returned. Alyssa had remembered how Julie had thrown away Guy's contact information four years earlier, and it was obvious that the former goalie had no interest in catching up with an old teammate.

            But Alyssa pushed these worries aside.

_It's not like he's gonna stay the night, or something…right?_

            The sight of the tall, athletic young man with boyish good looks, however, had planted a seed of doubt.


	5. A Surprise Reunion

            "At the next stop, turn right onto Blossom Street," the female voice on Guy's GPS instructed him.

            The Bruin forward nodded as he approached the stop sign on Charles Street and the navigation system in his CTS pinged.

            "Turn right."

            "Heard ya the first time."

            He had taken Alyssa up on her offer to hang out at her place, in what she had described as a 'total non-date.' After stopping at his apartment in Beacon Hill to change into a fresh shirt and a nice pair of blue jeans, Guy made the journey to the West End with a mixture of excitement and apprehension. Despite the strong unlikelihood of being seen by anyone in the Bruins organization, the blond forward could not help but worry about being caught in the home of the beautiful trainer.

            But then, he had always been such a scrupulous follower of the rules. It felt good to be just a little on the wild side for a change.

_Heh, 'wild side.' It'll probably be an evening of Scrabble and iced tea._

            He eased his car into the narrow driveway that separated two townhouses and made his way to a small parking area behind them. Spying an open space, he swooped in to lay claim to it, beating out the imaginary parking rivals that always seemed to follow him. Four years of living in Boston had conditioned him to expect a car to swoop in from nowhere and steal an open parking space out from under him at any second, so he wasted no time in parking his white Cadillac.

            Stepping out into the late afternoon sun, he heard the _clink_ of a metal baseball bat smacking a ball in the distance.

_Lederman Park_ , he reasoned.

            After locking his car, Guy went around to the front of the slate gray cobblestone townhouse, jogged up the stairs and rang the doorbell. As he waited, he was distracted by the sound of an ambulance siren that had been getting louder. Looking around, he noticed that he was standing almost directly behind Massachusetts General Hospital.

            He had been so distracted with the commotion that he had not heard the sound of the heavy black door opening to reveal Alyssa Browning.

            "Oh. Hey, Germaine."

            Guy turned with a start. She seemed surprised to see him.

            "Um…I thought you invited me over," he explained. "I'm sorry if I was mistaken."

            Alyssa let out her charming little giggle that caused the corners of Guy's lips to twist into a smile without him realizing it.

            “I know," she replied opening the door wider to allow him in. "Come in."

            He gave a slight nod as he crossed the threshold.

            "I just hadn't expected you to be so dressed up," she explained her surprise as she looked over Guy in a light blue button shirt with short sleeves and a collar. His dark designer jeans were obviously on the pricey side too.

            "This is nothing, really," he shrugged.

            Looking over his host, he saw that Alyssa had not changed out of the black trackpants and matching Bruins polo shirt that made up her trainer's uniform – though she was not wearing her team training jacket like she had at the practice facility.

            "You look nice," she offered with a hint of shyness. "Anyway, go ahead and leave your shoes on the tray. Then make yourself comfortable."

            The hockey player nodded and put his shoes away. It was obvious that he had just entered the home of at least one neat-freak. As he moved forward, out of the foyer and into the bright, sunlit living room, his suspicions were confirmed.

            With its white walls, ornate Persian rug, red leather armchair and ivory-colored sectional, Guy felt like he was making the place dirty simply by standing and breathing in it. Part of him actually feared sitting on that immaculate couch, prompting Alyssa to cock a wry eyebrow.

            "If you like it that much when you're standing up, you'll _love it_ when you're sitting on it."

            "Oh, right," Guy reluctantly sat down on the couch's center, directly opposite the flat screen TV mounted to the wall.

            "Anyway, I'm a hopeless cook," Alyssa confessed. "So I hope you don't mind ordering out. Is Chinese okay?"

            "Chinese is great," he replied. "General Tso's has always been a guilty pleasure of mine."

            "Mine too!" She acknowledged before turning toward the kitchen. "A little wine while we wait?"

            "Sure."

            Once Alyssa had disappeared into the kitchen, Guy continued to survey his surroundings. He could not deny that the place was comfortable, clean and beautifully-maintained. But there was a sterile, lifeless quality to it that felt disconcerting. He recognized the framed photograph on the end table as one that he had seen in a store. The dark, solid oak coffee table did not have any books or magazines resting on its surface — instead, there were three different remote controls.

            But the flush bookshelves were beyond full, and appeared to offer proof of Julie's presence.

_She always was a bookworm._

            The twin bookshelves on either side of the TV almost moaned under the weight of the volumes. They had been so full that Julie – or whoever – had to resort to stacking books horizontally on top of the vertically-stacked volumes.

            But no hockey memorabilia or photographs of family and friends were anywhere to be seen.

            "I thought some riesling would go well with our dinner," Alyssa called out as she approached with two glasses of white wine. "The food should be here in about thirty minutes."

            "Great, thanks," Guy took the outstretched glass before Alyssa sat down next to him.

_Hmm. Closer than I thought. That's cool though._

            "To the Bruins," she proposed, raising her glass.

            "To the Bruins," he agreed, clinking her glass before they each took a sip. "I was just admiring your library," he indicated the shelves with his head.

            "Oh, that," Alyssa looked over at the books. "Almost all of those are Julie's…I mean my rommate's."

            The trainer was well aware of Julie's unwillingness to get in touch with Guy, but she had forgotten to keep a layer of separation between Julie and her visitor.

            "I figured," Guy acknowledged before taking another sip.

            The brief pause that followed felt like an eternity to Alyssa as she worked out what to say without sounding contrived, but Guy interrupted her thoughts.

            "Can I ask you something? Why didn't Julie ever call me back? I won't try contacting her if she doesn't want to hear from me, but I'm curious."

            Alyssa twisted her face as she tapped the side of her glass with a long index finger. Despite being very different from her roommate, she got on well with the Boston cop and valued her as a friend. She certainly did not want to betray Julie's trust by confiding in Guy. But she quickly came up with a loophole.

            "Well, I can't speak for Julie," she began. "I can only give you my opinion – which may have absolutely nothing to do with what she thinks or how she feels."

            Guy shrugged.

            "Okay, try me."

            "I think Julie's frustrated about where she is in life," Alyssa speculated. "Career-wise, she's not where she thought she'd be by now. And not that my love life's anything to write home about, but Julie's is lousy — she's stuck being the booty call of some rich old lawyer, even though she insists they've been going steady for a few years now. I mean…you knew her. She's always been ambitious, and she always demands a lot out of herself. And the people around her have always expected nothing less than greatness from her."

            Guy gave an understanding nod before Alyssa continued.

            "I think all of those expectations – both from herself and other people – combined with a life that hasn't lived up to them…is why she doesn't have much to do with her old friends anymore. Honestly, she's a proud person. And I think she's embarrassed, maybe even ashamed. Again, just my own two cents – nothing that Julie ever told me."

            "Yeah," Guy acknowledged. "We all thought she'd be the first woman President or something. It must be hard living up to high expectations."

            Alyssa gave Guy a bemused look as she took a sip of wine.

            "And you _don't_ have to live up to high expectations? You're a professional athlete!"

            "I'm a minnow that hasn't been eaten by a shark…yet."

            "You're in that tiny little fraction of hockey players who tried to make it in the NHL and actually succeeded," she pointed out. "Very few people make it in the first place, and even fewer people last over 10 years, as you have."

            "I guess."

            "You _guess?_ What, would you rather be one of those superstars who gets trashed by those fat slobs with mullets on TV?"

            Guy chuckled.

            "I suppose most hockey analysts really _do_ have bad hair," he acknowledged. "And it wouldn't kill most of them to lose some weight either."

            Alyssa took a quick glance at the clock on her cable box.

            "Actually, one of those shows is on right now," she announced. "You wanna watch? You wanna see some of the superstar treatment that you've been missing out on?"

            "Sure, why not?"

            She set her glass on the coffee table and got to work, playing around with different remote controls, trying to get the TV to turn on. Guy stifled a laugh as he watched the trainer frantically press different buttons in the vain hope of getting picture to appear on the flat screen.

_How does Julie do this?_ Alyssa wondered as she furiously pushed buttons.

            "Here, let me," Guy offered, setting down his wine. The forward felt a quick rush of adrenalin as his calloused hockey hand brushed against Alyssa's silky feminine one.

_Behave yourself,_ he admonished the imaginary helmsman manning his penis.

            Of course, the trouble with imaginary helmsmen is that they find it so easy to ignore orders from the captain.

            Taking care to strategically place a forearm over his lap, Guy pushed a couple buttons and managed to land on NHL TV.

            Alyssa looked on incredulously.

            "Okay, you gotta show me how you did that…only slower."

            "If it makes you feel any better, you already did most of the work for me," he offered with a slight smile. "It's a two-remote process."

            Having retrieved his glass, Guy looked up at the screen to see the puffy red visage of Gary Sherman: a legend in his own mind who had lasted just two seasons in the NHL, the portly presenter seemed to have found his calling describing everyone else as 'trash.'

            "This prick," Guy grunted.

            "You're the one who wanted to see it….oh, be quiet for a sec. They're about to talk about the Bruins!"

            " _So Bruins GM Carl Nardelli has been busy this offseason," Corey Lowe, the younger presenter began. "What grade do you give him, Gary?"_

            " _Well, I was gonna give him an F," Sherman replied. "But on giving it some more thought, I realize that I was being unfair. Instead, he deserves a solid D."_

_Lowe let out a fake TV laugh, inviting his broadcast partner to explain the low grade._

            " _Well, he went out and signed Adam Banks, which is sure to go down as the worst move any team ever made this offseason…or maybe any offseason. And to afford the massive contract of that delicate little flower, Nardelli has brought on lots of cheap foreign labor from Europe. But somewhere in that giant heap of European coal, there may just be a diamond."_

            Guy raised an intrigued pair of eyebrows as the trollish hockey commentator was about to say something positive for a change.

            " _That new Slovakian wing Branislav Halusic might not be a complete waste of money…or oxygen. Expect half-decent play from this young man, Corey."_

            " _But not from the rest?"_

_The heavyset, tomato-faced man with the greasy mullet scoffed._

            " _They're better-equipped to man the concession stands at TD Garden than to play hockey," he quipped. "Well, the rookies can do that work, anyway. As for Pretty Boy, he's been in the League for a while, so I'll give him a nicer job. He can do my laundry."_

            Guy chuckled.

_This guy tries way too hard._

            "What's so funny?" Alyssa demanded. "He just trashed your teammates!"

            "Alyssa, it's all for show," he explained. "The guy is a dick, but he's basically a comedian. No one in any NHL locker room takes him seriously, I guarantee you."

            "So you're saying that you _want_ to be insulted by a loudmouth on TV?"

            Guy shrugged.

            "I just think it would be nice not to be a non-entity for a change."

            Before Alyssa could respond, the doorbell rang.

            "Ah, that must be the delivery guy," she figured, moving to get up. "I'll just get that."

            As the leggy brunette got to her feet, a tempting ring of scarlet lace peeked over the back of her trackpants to say 'hello.' Guy chewed on the inside of his cheek, knowing that his helmsman was about to take shore leave.

* * *

 

            James' lustful gray eyes took in the sight of Julie as her summer dress with the white and blue floral pattern hit the parquet floor of his bedroom. Being mid-August, her skin had taken on a lovely natural glow, and the white of her G-string and strapless bra made her complexion appear even richer. Laying naked in bed, James could feel himself grow at the sight of Julie's toned stomach, her bare, shapely thighs, and firm C-cup. There would not be much need for foreplay under _those_ conditions.

            "Aren't you gonna come get your birthday present?" He asked with a cheeky grin.

            "Oh?" Julie asked as she freed her breasts from their captor. "I thought I was giving yours a month early," she teased as she approached the foot of the bed.

            "Works for me."

            "I'm sure it does."

            Without breathing another word, she leapt onto the gray silk sheets and crawled up to her lover on her hands and knees – her bounce driving James mad with anticipation. She seized his face with both hands as she straddled him, then planted a long, passionate kiss on his lips. But as she ran a hand through his dyed dark hair, he stopped her.

            Only a month away from his 44th birthday, James worried about the natural thinning of his hair and was keen to keep his girlfriend's aggressive hands out of it.

            "There's a better place for those," he instructed as he set Julie's hands on his tight pecs.

            She obliged and stroked the firm, hairless pectorals while sucking on his neck.

            He slid her thong off while she straightened her legs to allow it to fly across the room before continuing to work her magic on the neck. He was so aroused, he knew that if he did not get down to business soon, he would risk losing the juice before the party even started.

            Julie gasped as James seized her by the arms and pinned her against the mattress.

_Not wasting any time, is he…eeeee._

            She moaned as he entered, and closed her eyes while stroking his toned back.

_You like it, baby?_

            Julie gasped again as she heard the voice of Adam Banks.

            James heard her gasp and gradually picked up the pace, going deeper, causing Julie to drive her nails into her lover's back.

            "Yes…yes…." She panted.

            " _This guy's pretty good, but he could learn a lot from me,"_ the voice of Adam continued.

            While her eyes remained closed, Julie's first love appeared to her. They were still in James' apartment, and on James' bed. Only Adam was naked, and _he_ was the one giving it to her.

_That better?_

            "Oh, yes…yes…yes…so good!"

            James smiled at Julie's pleasure. She always had a way of making him feel like an absolute stallion.

            " _Let me... hear you say it,"_ Adam panted several minutes into it. _"Tell me...you love me. You still do, don't you?"_

            James could feel Julie's back begin to arch, he could tell that he was closing in.

            "Mmm…mmm. Oooo _h."_

            James let out an equally satisfied groan as he pulled out and reached for a tissue.

            Julie's eyes were still closed, and she saw a disgusted-looking Adam frown down at her.

            " _You fucking whore."_

            Her green eyes opened with a start. Smelling James' deodorant, she realized where she was and who she had just made love with.

_Or does it still count if you're thinking about someone else?_

            With a pang of guilt, she sat up – covering her bare chest with a silk sheet – and tried to process what she had just experienced.

_Maybe Adam was right. Maybe I am a whore._

            James observed Julie's unusual posture and watched as she briefly rested her hand on her forehead before running it through her hair in a worried gesture.

            "What's wrong, doll?"

            She looked down at her boyfriend, whose head was resting on a pillow.

            "Nothing," she tried to assure him before looking away.

            He sat up with a slight grunt bringing himself eye-level with Julie before gently cupping her chin and turning her to face him.

            "You can tell me, Julie," James insisted. "We're about to start our life together, so no secrets, okay?"

            She let out an unhappy sigh, prompting James to wrap an arm around her bare shoulders.

            "Do you still remember your first love?" She asked as she rested her head on James' chest.

            "Of course," he replied. "No one ever forgets their first love."

            "I feel like I should."

            "Why, because you're with me?" He asked. "That's ridiculous. Having memories of someone else isn't cheating – even if they're really intimate memories."

_Only it wasn't a memory,_ Julie realized. _It wasn't the past. He was here, in the present…in my mind._

            "I should get going," she declared, getting up off the bed. "Don't worry about driving me home, I'll call a cab."

            James looked wounded as he watched Julie get dressed again. Something was seriously up with her, but he did not want to push too hard for fear of losing her completely.

            "Are you sure?" He asked. "Was it something I said, or did?"

            "No, of course not," Julie insisted as she finished putting her dress back on. She went over to James, leaned in and gave him a peck on the cheek. "You're perfect." _That's the problem. " I'm t_ _he head case."_

            "Julie…"

            "I'm sorry, but I really need to get away and clear my head. I'm afraid our plans for the weekend are off."

            He nodded sadly, but agreed.

            "Take as much time as you need. I'll be ready whenever you are."

            "Thanks, darling," she leaned in and gently grasped his chin, giving him another light kiss on the cheek.

            With the goodbye out of the way, Julie moved swiftly to the exit, worried that her sympathy for James would weaken her resolve and cause her to stay put for the weekend. She had no idea what was in store for their relationship, but she was certain that nothing good could come out of a weekend with him if she failed to get a handle on her feelings for Adam first.

* * *

 

            Alyssa laughed out loud as Warren from _Something About Mary_ called out 'franks and beans.' She had forgotten how funny the '90s classic was, and she had her guest, Guy Germaine, to thank for it.

            "This movie is so funny," she enthused. "What made you think to watch it?"

            Guy bit on his cheek as he remembered the reason. Once the Chinese food had arrived and Alyssa began setting it up in the kitchen, he had taken a tactical trip to the bathroom. Following Dom's advice to Ted in _Something About Mary_ , the hockey player took care to 'clean the pipes' before returning to meet her.

            "It just occurred to me out of the blue, I guess," he lied with a shrug.

            He turned to face her and realized only then how closely they were sitting together. That gorgeous porcelain face with the honey brown eyes was just a few short inches away…and seemed to be getting closer when Alyssa flashed a quizzical look.

            "What's that stuff on your ear?" She asked. "Is that...is that hair gel?"

            Guy's hazel eyes widened in horror.

            "I'm _fucking_ with you, Guy," the trainer paraphrased the film, prompting the forward to laugh.

            For a moment, he thought that he had made the same mistake that Ben Stiller's character made in the movie.

            As Guy came to his senses, he noticed that Alyssa had gotten even closer, and her eyes had drifted down toward his lips. He closed his eyes in anticipation.

            The sound of the front door opening caused the pair to fly apart to opposite ends of the couch.

            "Alyssa, I'm home!" Julie called out. She noticed an unfamiliar pair of men's shoes as she placed her sandals on the tray next to the door.

_I haven't heard that voice in 14 years,_ Guy realized.

            Julie's eyes widened at the sight of her fellow Eden Hall alumnus. She had barely kept in touch with any of them during her freshman year at BU, and once Adam had gone pro, she had not bothered to contact any of the Ducks at all.

            Not that Julie and Guy had a dramatic – or even interesting – personal history, but the unexpected reunion after so many years apart created an awkward tension. And neither of them knew how to handle it. Many long seconds that felt like hours ticked by.

            "Hey, Julie," Alyssa spoke up at last. "I invited Guy over after he had practice. I figured that you'd be out with James and you wouldn't mind."

            The sound of her roommate's voice caused Julie to snap out of her stupor.

            "This is your home too, Alyssa," the former goalie pointed out. "You don't need my permission to invite anyone over," she added before approaching Guy and extending both hands toward him.

            The blond forward grasped Julie's hands as he got to his feet, and found himself wrapped in a surprise embrace.

            "It's good to see you, Guy."

            "Um…likewise," he replied, returning the hug. "I didn't think you wanted to see any of the Ducks ever again."

            "Neither did I," Julie confessed. "But I didn't know what I was missing. I'm sorry, Guy."

            He pulled out of the embrace and reached for his phone.

            "Hey, no worries," he began. "It's getting late, and I probably should head home. But before I go…maybe you'd like to swap phones?"

            "I'd like that," Julie agreed, retrieving hers before trading it with Guy's.

            The pair of former Ducks added themselves to each other's contacts before returning their phones.

            "I promise I'll call this time," she offered.

            "You're not gonna text, like the kids do?" He teased as he slid his phone back into his front pocket.

            "I'll do that too," Julie promised with a smile before turning serious. "But please don't give that – or my address – to Adam."

            Guy noticed the worried look on her face and gave a reassuring nod.

            "I won't. Oh, Alyssa…" the blond forward approached the brunette trainer, reaching for his wallet. "Let me give you my half for the Chinese food."

            But Alyssa waved the money away.

            "My treat," she offered.

            "You sure?"

            "Positive. But I want a hug too."

            Guy smiled shyly as he put away his wallet and Alyssa embraced him. The comely trainer had an intoxicating lavender scent that caused him to perk up. And they were close enough in height for her to definitely notice it.

_Shit._

            "Anyway, have a nice night, ladies," he offered as he awkwardly separated from Alyssa before speed-walking to the front door.

_He's just too cute,_ the trainer thought to herself.

            "Sweet dreams," she called back with a mischievous grin.

            Once the front door shut, Julie turned to Alyssa.

            "Um, okay. What was _that_ all about?"

            "Don't try to turn this on me, Sarge. You were supposed to spend the weekend at James' place. And now you're here. What happened?"

            Julie let out a loud sigh as she plopped down on the sectional. She noticed two empty wine glasses.

            "We got any more?" She asked.

            "Coming right up," Alyssa affirmed before taking the glasses and heading into the kitchen.

            The trainer emerged about a minute later with riesling in a clean glass.

            "Thanks," Julie offered as she took the outstretched glass.

            Alyssa turned and took a seat in the armchair, studying her roommate while the off-duty sergeant took a hearty sip.

            "So what's up?" The trainer asked.

            "Heh," Julie cupped her narrow glass with both hands. "There's no delicate way to put it, so I'll just say it straight up. James and I were having sex…and I thought about Adam Banks while we were doing it"

            "I see."

            "Well…any thoughts?"

            Alyssa shrugged.

            "If James was fucking me…I'd rather think about Adam Banks too. He's hot."

            Julie let out a bitter chuckle before downing her wine and standing up.

            "Thanks for the understanding, Dr. Freud. I'm going to bed."

            "Any time. Night, Julie.”


	6. Flying Like Icarus

            October had arrived, and with it came crisp air and the beginning of the hockey season. As Adam finished putting on his black and gold Bruins jersey in the Boston locker room at TD Garden, he felt his heart begin to race just a little bit in anticipation. A fierce competitor for life, he had always been a bundle of nervous energy prior to a game, but the stakes were even higher than normal on this particular evening in the second week of October.

            Having been rejected by most of the local fanbase and dismissed by most of the hockey commentariat, Adam knew that he needed to get out to a strong start against the visiting Philadelphia Flyers. His coaches and his teammates could not stop singing his praises during offseason practices and workouts, but none of that really counted.

            If he could not produce at game-time, all of the attacks leveled against him as a washed-up and injury-prone has-been would intensify. Should he fail to lift the Bruins to victory, he would lose precious minutes on the ice. Should he be relegated to the bench, an early release could be expected…along with a $40 million haircut on his terminated contract and an overwhelming likelihood of early retirement.

            The 32-year old forward bristled at the thought.

            He had been on the ice since the age of six. Being a hockey player was not what he did for a living, so much as _who he was._

            After a fiery pep-talk from Coach Bernier, Adam and the rest of the Bruins hit the ice for warm-ups and were greeted with rapturous cheers from the home crowd at the Garden. Opening night was the only regular season game that could compete with playoff games in terms of excitement and intensity. With a new season, everyone was a potential Stanley Cup winner – at least in their own minds. Adam felt the electricity of the Bruin fanatics in the stands as he glided onto the ice to the sound of AC/DC's _Back in Black._

            With his childhood numbers 9 and 99 unavailable – 9 having belonged to legendary Bruins wing John Bucyk, and Wayne Gretzky's 99 having been retired throughout the league – Adam opted to wear the number 6. For all he knew, Julie Gaffney had moved on and forgotten all about him. But he claimed her old number as his own, as it was the only other number that had ever meant anything to him.

            Once the warm-ups and National Anthem were out of the way, the first lines of the black-and-gold Bruins lined up against the orange-and-white Flyers for the opening faceoff. As Adam took his position at center ice, it occurred to him that the 'bad guys' of his childhood had always worn black.

_Ah well. Times change._

            The puck dropped and Adam threw a quick shoulder into his Philly opposite, winning possession. He drew a double-team as he charged into the Flyer zone, then passed ahead to an open Guy who took a shot that went wide of the net.

            Adam found himself in the middle of a Philly sandwich – and not the kind on offer at Greg Goldberg's family deli – as he skated toward the boards behind the Flyer net and tried to recover the puck. As a general rule of thumb, star players always get whacked harder than anyone else, and part of Adam was actually relieved to have gotten the rough treatment. It was proof that he still mattered.

            As the three sticks hacked away and battled for possession, the puck came loose and was recovered by a Flyer defenseman who moved to take it out of his zone. The Boston crowd – still on its feet – let out a collective groan as the Flyers took control and closed in on the Bruin net. But their spirits were restored by the quick glove of their goalie, Jason Dombrowski.

            Philadelphia won the subsequent faceoff and continued to slap the puck around, hoping to optimize their scoring position. But Adam had figured out their pattern and intercepted the puck before turning on the jets and launching himself into the Flyer zone on a fast break. One-on-one with the Philadelphia goalie, he deked twice and fired a corner shot in the 4-hole, prompting the home crowd to roar as the goal horn sounded and the strobe lights flashed.

            Engulfed by his linemates in a celebratory hug, Adam heard a bunch of congratulatory words in accented English from his foreign teammates. The soft, vaguely Midwestern 'nice job' from Guy Germaine stood out like a sore thumb. Looking back at the blond forward, Adam gave an appreciative half-grin.

            "Thanks, man," he added.

 _Heh. This might be a record-long conversation for us,_ Guy mused.

            With the first goal out of the way, the home crowd finally took their seats and play resumed. Both teams were a bit too amped up, and opening night nerves led to lots of mistakes on both sides. Even after several line changes, the score remained 1-0 as the first period drew to a close.

            The second period saw more sloppiness and chippiness that landed players from both teams – Adam included – in the penalty box. There had not been any scoring, but as the second period wound down, the crowd was re-energized by a fist fight between Alexej Viiatenen – the Finnish rookie for the Bruins – and his Philly opposite. Once the burly Finn landed a punch that knocked the Flyer down to the ice, the refs broke up the fight and escorted both players to the separate penalty boxes.

            The third period began with four men on the ice for each team, as the fighters from the last period were still in the box, but Boston got their man back soon enough…by giving up a game-tying goal.

            Three line changes, innumerable wide shots, and countless hard-checks later, the Bruin first line returned to the ice with just two minutes remaining in regulation. The game was tied at 1 apiece.

            Philadelphia won the faceoff and attacked the Boston zone, getting off shot after shot as the winded Bruin defense showed signs of rolling over. But Dombrowski held strong and denied the Flyers a late-game lead. Guy won a faceoff for the Bruins and made a lateral pass to Adam who took off in the direction of the Philly zone.

            The Flyer defenders quickly recovered their positioning and moved to double-team Adam once again – leaving Guy wide open by the net.

            But Adam remembered Guy's crummy shot from the first period and did not trust his old linemate to deliver in crunch time. Instead, he powered through one defender with a hard thrust of the shoulder, and shaked off the second defender with a spin-move before firing off his second goal of the night as the final horn sounded.

            The euphoric Boston crowd rose to its feet and roared their enthusiasm for the season opening victory. Having scored both goals in that crucial win, Adam felt that he had silenced his critics for the time being, and he smiled broadly as his ecstatic teammates embraced him.

            Guy had been at the back of the team sandwich, far removed from Adam. But that was just as well. The soft-spoken role player seethed with resentment, having been denied the game-winning shot by 'Mr. Superstar.'

* * *

 

            Freezing rain beat down on Julie's silver Ford Edge as she eased her crossover out of her townhouse parking lot and onto the street. It had been gray all day, and she imagined that the start of her evening shift would be only a little bit darker than it had been. Deciding that she had heard enough of the rain, she switched on the radio and turned to one of the sports stations.

 _“We've got a real treat for you,_ the male voice on the radio announced. _Clearly the Bruins' most valuable player, Number Six himself…Adam Banks is in studio with us. Hey, Adam. Welcome back to the program.”_

            Julie switched the radio off before she could hear the voice of her old flame.

            Uncharacteristically, she had avoided hockey coverage through all of October and the first half of November. With Thanksgiving approaching, she vaguely knew that the Bruins were doing well, as an excited Alyssa had kept mentioning wins. But Julie's roommate knew better than to discuss 'You-Know-Who.' And Julie did not want to risk any Adam-induced relapses by following her favorite team too closely.

            After her birthday freak-out at James' place, the older lawyer had patiently given Julie all of the space and time that she had wanted. Now, they were back together and she was due to move into his place after Thanksgiving. And they were going to have a wonderful Christmas with his kids, Andrew and Kate.

_And I'm not gonna let somebody walk in and ruin that._

            Julie was never one of those people who found the sound of rain soothing, however. So she moved to turn the radio back on, intending to change it to a music station.

            " _I've really been having an amazing time in Boston,"_ Adam announced over the radio.

            Hearing her first love's voice, Julie's hand froze over the station dial. She knew that she had better turn that dial, but something in her rebelled.

            " _My teammates, Coach — 'Bern' as we call him — and the fans have all been incredible,"_ Adam continued.

            " _Well you've definitely returned the favor,"_ the radio presenter declared. _"Already 20 goals and 12 assistss through 18 games, and that's not even counting your dominance on defense."_

            " _Well, I try,"_ Adam 'modestly' offered, prompting laughs.

            Julie rolled her eyes as she placed her frozen dial hand back onto the steering wheel. She figured that if Adam was still the cocky jerk who left her at BU 14 years earlier, maybe she was better off hearing from him.

 _It'll probably make it harder for me to miss him,_ she reasoned.

            " _Anyway, before we really get into things…I've got this listener…a real persistent guy apparently, he wrote me this question that I hadn't asked when I had you on the show before."_

            " _Well, shoot,"_ Adam invited his host to ask the question.

            " _JP from Cambridge…heh, probably some Bahnie…wants to know why you are wearing the Number Six."_

            Julie gasped slightly as she stopped at the red light and heard the question.

            There was a brief pause over the radio.

            " _Well,"_ Adam began. _"My old number nine was unavailable, as I'm sure you know. So I got to pick from the available numbers, and I went with six."_

            " _Yeah…but why six?"_ The presenter pressed. _"He's shrugging his shoulders, everybody,"_ he narrated for his listeners.

            " _Basically, t_ _he number six is the number nine upside down. That's why,"_ Adam explained. _"I know. Real exciting, right?"_

            " _Heh, I figured there wasn't much there. Anyway…"_

            Julie scoffed as she blindly changed the radio station. She landed on some weird Korean pop station, but she did not care.

 _Couldn't even give me a shout-out_ , she mused bitterly. _Had to make it all about himself. Even when it was my number, he found a way to cut me out._

            Despite the indignation that Adam's apparent arrogance had aroused in her, part of Julie felt that she was finally getting him out of her system. And she owed that much to James and the kids. But the much-appreciated assistance in getting over Adam Banks did not make listening to the man that the boy of her dreams had turned into any easier.

_Why do people have to grow up and suck?_

            The question seemed all the more pertinent as she arrived at her precinct and parked in her usual spot. Dealing with lousy grown-ups – and the occasional lousy kid – had become her life's work.

            Julie stepped out of her car and jogged up to the precinct's entrance, moving swiftly to get out of the rain. She made her way inside, went straight to the locker room and changed into her long-sleeved cold weather uniform and made sure to grab her grab her 'POLICE' coat and cap before heading to the squad room.

            Once she had arrived at her desk, she was greeted by an enthusiastic Will Shanahan.

            "Hey, happy birthday, Sahdge! He'ere. Have some cawfee," he extended a tall styrofoam Dunkin' Donuts cup.

            She took the cup with a slight smile and lifted the lid. From the smell, she could tell that it was hazelnut, her favorite.

            "That's a very thoughtful gesture, Shanahan," she began before looking at the tear-off calendar on her desk, indicating November 15th. "But you're exactly three months late."

            The rookie cop innocently shrugged.

            "I remembered it was on a 15th, in my defense."

            In truth, the 22-year old had gotten the treat for himself but decided that the dour sergeant was in greater need of the pick-me-up

            Julie smiled more broadly, unaware that it was Shanahan's own birthday that day.

            "Fair enough," she offered. "Thank you, Will."

            Despite finding her partner's puppy-like antics tiresome, part of Julie hoped that Will Shanahan would never 'grow up and suck' like everyone else – herself included.

* * *

 

            The Chicago Blackhawks were greeted by mid-December flurries when they arrived in Boston, a shower that intensified through the evening when they met the Bruins at the Garden. Despite the obvious lack of snowfall indoors, the arena felt even chillier to the Blackhawks – or 'Hawks' as they are known informally. Adam had been the linchpin of the Bruin scoring attack that placed Boston at the top of the Atlantic Division, and the Hawks knew that they had their work cut out for them against their hard-charging Original Six rival.

            Adam won possession at the opening faceoff and barreled into Chicago's zone with Guy and the rookie Branislav Halusic on the wings. But a Hawk forward jumped on Adam's pass to Halusic and took off on a fast-break. Guy give chase, but his 32-year old legs were not fast enough to get ahead of the Hawk, and the blond forward ended up getting penalized for charging.

            Chicago exploited their man-advantage with a quick goal, drawing first blood and loud boos from the home crowd at TD Garden as Guy made his way out of the penalty box.

            Bernier called for a line change and Guy braced himself for an earful as he settled in on the bench.

            "We'll get it back, don't worry," Adam assured his old teammate, drawing a surprised look from the blond forward.

            Given their long history and the presumed bond that came with it, Adam felt perfectly entitled to rip Guy's head off whenever the latter screwed up – and he had demonstrated that fact quite frequently. But Adam took a more subtle approach this time, opting to encourage the ex-Duck instead.

            The second lines of both teams traded goals, giving Chicago the 2-1 lead as the hard-hitting third liners made for the ice. The so-called 'checking lines' lived up to their bulldozer reputations and proceeded to grind and smash as the first period wound down with no additional goals being scored.

            During their time on the bench, Adam briefly went over strategy with Guy and Halusic, outlining the go-to-moves of their opposites on the Hawks. The first lines returned at the start of the second period, and Adam's coaching paid off, as the former All-star made a well-timed pass to Halusic who scored the tying goal.

            Once again, Guy was left out in the cold while his teammates got the glory.

            The game remained tied at 2-apiece going into the third period, and Adam found himself in a familiar situation after intercepting a Hawk pass and taking the puck into Chicago's zone. He was one-on-one with the Hawk goalie and was in prime position to put his team ahead with only a few minutes remaining in regulation.

            He deked, drew back…

            …and collapsed belly-up onto the ice as he felt a searing pain in his Achilles. The refs stopped gameplay as Adam lay pathetically on his back, his high-flying comeback having crashed down to earth.

* * *

 

            "Halt!" Cried Julie in a deep voice as she read _The Hobbit_ in the voice of Gandalf the Grey. The off-duty sergeant was reading to 8-year old Kate Lawton before bedtime.

            "Dread has come upon you all," she continued as Gandalf. "The Goblins are upon you! Bolg of the North is coming, o Dain, whose father you slew in Moria. Behold! The bats are above his army like a sea of locusts. They ride upon wolves, and Wargs are in their train!"

            The pale blue eyes of the little chestnut-haired girl widened as she imagined the beginning of Tolkien's famous Battle of the Five Armies.

            "Oh no!" She cried.

            Julie continued reading until she reached the end of the chapter, where Bilbo was knocked unconscious by a falling rock. After a quick glance at the nightstand clock confirmed that it was getting late, Julie closed her worn green paperback before leaning in and giving her unofficial 'stepdaughter' a kiss on the forehead.

            "You can't stop there!" Kate protested.

            "Sweetie, it's almost midnight," Julie replied. "If you're a good girl tomorrow, I'll finish reading it tomorrow night."

            Kate would have offered further protests, but she was unable to stifle her own yawn. Knowing that she had lost the argument, she slid down her bed and moved into sleeping position.

            "Night, Aunt Julie."

            “Night, Kate."

            The former goalie got up from the chair by the bed and left the small guestroom that served as Kate's room on weekends. Andrew, her 12-year old brother, slept in the guestroom closer to the master bedroom on the other side of the living room. Julie nearly turned the ceiling light off on her way out, but remembered to leave it on. Getting the little girl to sleep in the dark would be a struggle for another night.

            "Hey, doll," James called out from the white living room sofa as Julie walked in.

            "Hey, hon."

            "Were you reading to Kate this _whole time?"_

            Julie nodded as she took a seat next to her boyfriend.

            "Some things in life cannot be rushed. And Tolkien is one of those things."

            James smiled slightly before returning his gaze to his tablet that was full of graphs and charts. Despite her considerable skill at reading body language, Julie could never quite tell from James' stock market scowl whether or not his portfolio was doing well. On one occasion, she felt that he was about ready to throw his tablet across the room shortly before he announced that he had just made "a cool 20 G's."

            With James looking over his stocks, Julie decided that it was a good time to check her Twitter feed. Being in the same room while ignoring each other and playing around on their electronic devices was hardly unique to this particular couple. It seemed that most people in their day would rather re-tweet vapid quotes from celebrities than actually have a real conversation with a real human being.

            As her green eyes scanned her feed, two tweets from the Boston Bruins immediately jumped out at her.

_Adam Banks believed to be suffering torn Achilles._

_Adam Banks left game against Blackhawks in the 3rd._

            Julie frowned as she read the gloomy updates. Despite Adam's unwelcome presence in her memory over these past few months, the former goalie felt a tinge of pity for her first love. Before she could think better of it, she exited Twitter, went to her contacts list and pressed her thumb on Guy's name.

 _I'm sorry, it's late, I know. But do you know where they're taking Adam?_ She texted.

            It felt like an eternity as she waited to hear back from her former teammate. Little did she know that he was occupied – at her old townhouse, no less.

            As Alyssa and Guy madeout on the brunette trainer's couch, the blond forward instinctively reached for his phone, only to have his hand slapped away by the woman whose long, athletic body was pressed against his.

            "Leave it," she instructed.

            "Sorr…" he was cut off by Alyssa's luscious, greedy lips.

            Guy retaliated with his tongue, prompting Alyssa to moan with delight while his hands got acquainted with her toned thighs and ass.

            Alyssa growled while her phone rang. Having finally gotten the cute blond hockey player right where she wanted him, she was not about to take any calls. She deepened her kiss as the phone eventually went through its rings before going to voicemail.

            As they parted for breath, her phone rang again.

_Son of a bitch!_

            She grabbed the phone with every intention of telling the caller to 'eat shit and die' when she noticed that the caller ID was tagged 'Julie.' The trainer's anger and frustration gave way to worry, as Julie had never been one to make frivolous calls, especially at this time of night.

            "Julie? What's wrong?"

            "Is Guy there?"

            " _Excuse me?"_

            "He's not answering his texts," Julie explained. "Can I talk to him?"

_Why did I ever room with a cop? They're relentless._

            Alyssa let out a resigned sigh.

            "Yeah, hold on," she shoved the phone toward a confused Guy. "It's Julie."

            "Hello, Julie?"

            "Guy, hey. Listen, I'm sorry for interrupting… _whatever..._ but it's important," she declared in a hushed tone from her kitchen. "Do you know what hospital they took Adam to?"

            Guy's fair eyebrows flew up in surprise. When he had finally reconnected with Julie after 14 long years, the former goalie had instructed him to never give her contact information to Adam.

_And now she wants to see him?_

            "Are you sure that's what you want, Julie?"

            She looked from the kitchen toward the living room, where James had remained seated on the sofa. In all honesty, she was  _not_ sure. But she could worry about that later. Visiting hours would not be until tomorrow anyway, leaving her plenty of time to argue with herself over the appropriate course of action.

            "Just tell me," she instructed the forward.

            "Mass General."

            "Thank you. I'll let you get back to... _whatever."_

            "How very generous of you," Guy teased before hanging up.

            Julie moved to charge her phone before heading to bed. While James slept like a baby next to her, she could not catch a single wink.

* * *

 

            An exhausted Adam rubbed his eyes as he sat up in the hospital bed. Between a lack of sleep, depression over his injury, and the onslaught of medical information that the well-meaning doctors had bombarded him with, there simply were not enough hours in the day for all of the sleep that he needed.

            The doctors had gone over different surgical and non-surgical options while Daryl Montrose, one of the Bruin trainers advised the hockey player on how much time each option would leave him on the injured reserve. Despite his lengthy history with hospitals, Adam felt ill-equipped to make such an important decision by himself, and decided to wait for his father to fly in from Minnesota.

            As Montrose and the surgeons cleared out of Adam's private room, a nurse approached.

            "Mr. Banks? I'm sorry, you probably want to rest…but there's an officer from the Boston Police Department waiting to see you. She says it's unofficial business, and she has no warrant. So I can get rid of her if you like, but…" the nurse decided to leave out the fact that she found it difficult to say 'no' to someone with a badge.

_A Boston cop? A female Boston cop? Maybe…nah, it can't be. But what could she want, whoever it is?_

            "I guess I can give her five minutes," Adam replied.

            The nurse gave a quick nod before departing to fetch Adam's visitor. As he waited, he found that keeping his heavy eyelids open took too much effort, so he allowed them to close. He thought he was dreaming when he heard a worried female voice that sounded strangely familiar.

            "Adam? Adam, can you hear me?"

            The hockey player willed his eyes to open and felt his heart beat faster as he took in the sight of Julie Gaffney. Her hair was a lighter shade of blonde than he had remembered, but he would recognize that face…and those gorgeous green eyes anywhere.

            "Julie?"

            The former goalie smiled slightly. Off duty, she wore a jade long-sleeved crew neck underneath her black coat. She kept her badge visible on the belt around her dark blue jeans.

            "Yes, it's me," she replied, taking his hand. "It's been a while."


	7. Bedside Visits

            What do you say when you see your first love for the first time in fourteen years? Despite boasting an impressive personal library, Julie could not recall reading anything that could help her negotiate this tricky situation.

_My books._

            As she recalled that her books had been moved to James' Beacon Hill apartment, she recoiled from Adam's grasp with a start.

 _I'm just visiting a friend,_ she told herself.

            Looking over her 'friend,' Julie decided that Adam looked like hell. The injured hockey player's eyes were distant and sleepy in appearance. His thick, light brown mane was disheveled, the dark stuble on his face looked like an invading army that coarsened his delicate features. And the gray hospital gown that he wore had a way of making even someone as tall and as muscular as Adam Banks look small and sickly.

            He looked up at Julie and felt more awake. He had been running on fumes for the last several hours, but the sight of his beautiful visitor got his heart pumping and roused his brain from its idle state.

            "Well pull up a chair, make yourself comfortable," he suggested, the strength of his own voice surprising him.

            Julie nodded and took a seat to Adam's right. A burnt orange plastic water pitcher and a stack of white styrofoam cups rested on top of a hard plastic stand immediately to her left.

            "Can I get you a drink?" He asked, leaning over to the stand.

            "Here, let me."

            He waved away Julie's hand.

            "No, I've got it," he insisted. "I've had enough of people fussing over me," he added while resting an empty cup on the surface of the stand face-up.

            "Sorry."

            "No need to apologize," Adam offered. "I hope you like your water neat, because I haven't got any ice," he added with an impish smile.

_Ah yes, the terrible but sweetly-endearing sense of humor. That's my Adam!_

            Julie managed a polite giggle that Adam recognized as fake. But he was not about to hassle her over it. After pouring two cups of water, he extended one toward Julie with his right hand while raising the one in his left.

            "Cheers," he declared before taking a sip

            She nodded before taking a small sip of her own.

            As he set his cup back down on the stand, he looked over his visitor. Julie had been casually dressed in a jade long-sleeved T-shirt and dark blue jeans underneath a black winter coat. But he could see the badge clipped to her belt, and the butt of her Glock peeking out from her brown leather shoulder holster.

            "So you a detective now, or something?"

            Julie shook her head.

            "No, I'm a patrol sergeant on the third watch," she replied. "I'm off duty this weekend."

            "But you still wave your badge and gun around?"

            Julie let out an indignant huff as she set her cup down.

            "I don't _wave_ my gun anywhere," she began in a defensive tone before softening her expression. "Though the badge comes in handy; it lets me park wherever I like, and I can see old friends who can't be bothered to put me on the visitor's list," she explained with a teasing smile.

_So she became a cop after all. I wonder if she thinks it was worth it._

            "Heh, I didn't know that you were in town," Adam replied. "Or that you considered me a friend. Epecially after our little…falling out."

            "Yes, well, I'm not here to reminisce about the good old days," Julie declared as she reached for her water. "I just wanted to see how you were doing."

            " _Good old days?"_ He asked in disbelief. "I was a gigantic douche."

            "Well at least you admit it," she replied with a smirk. "That alone made this trip worthwhile," she added before taking a sip of water. "So what's the deal with you, anyway? The Bruins' Twitter account said that you tore your Achilles."

            "And the doctors agree."

            December 20th was a mere six days away. The star hockey player with the injury-riddled career was facing the bleak prospect of being a 33-year old who had had both of his Achilles tendons sewn back together with a surgeon's knife – to say nothing of all the other injuries that he had endured over 12-and-a-half seasons in the NHL. At this point, all Adam had going for him was the reputation he had earned during those magical seasons in Tampa at the beginning of his NHL career. But he knew that he could not ride that reputation forever.

            In this business, there was always someone younger, faster, stronger, and more durable waiting in the wings. And sooner or later, his reputation would mean nothing. He would be just another aging veteran with a broken body. And like a tired old lion clinging to his pride, he would get bumped-off by a young upstart before long.

            For a moment, he forgot that he had company, and he cupped his face with both hands and ran them down his cheeks in a gesture of despair.

            "Hey," Julie began as she placed a hand on Adam's shoulder. "You've come back before and you'll do it again."

            One corner of Adam's mouth shot up in the shape of a smile while the other corner remained in the position of a frown. Julie recognized the exaggerated half smile as Adam's "thanks, but you're full of shit" smile.

            "Or, you know," she continued, pulling her hand back and resting it on her lap. "You could just hang 'em up. It's not like you have anything left to prove, or a Stanley Cup to chase."

            His half smile gave way to his deer-in-the-headlights stare. Despite his many attractive features, including his height, his lean and muscular frame, and his thick head of hair, it had always been Adam's eyes that Julie found most compelling. Those great, big sapphire diamonds had always been so wonderfully expressive. And they were as innocent and guileless as they were beautiful.

            Hardly anything in Julie's life felt innocent or guileless anymore.

            "You don't mean… _retire…_ do you?"

            He mouthed the R-word in the manner of a particularly revolting dish.

            Julie did not respond. Even after spending fourteen years away from Adam, she knew that his drive required very little external input.

_Just give him a little nudge, and he'll do the rest._

            "I just gotta get this surgery out of the way and get out of this bed. I can handle the rest."

_That's my guy._

            Perhaps he was overtired. Perhaps he was overconfident. Or maybe it was a combination of the two that led him to press his palms against his bed and move to get up.

            Julie's eyes widened in horror and she quickly pushed Adam back down to the bed with surprising force. She did not hurt him, but the contact was more sustained than it had been a few moments ago. Realizing that she was hunched over Adam with her hands pressed against his hard pectorals, she also noticed that the contact was far more intimate than it had been earlier.

            Snapping out of the temporary craze that nearly led him out of bed, Adam looked up and saw the only woman he had truly loved well within arm's reach. Cupping her soft cheek felt like the most natural thing to do, and he did so without hesitation. Julie removed her hands from Adam's chest, and wrapped one hand around his toned forearm while resting the other over his cupping hand.

            He slid his hand down her cheek and gently grasped her jaw. All of her senses went on autopilot as he pulled her face closer to his. Once he could feel her breath against his skin, he closed his eyes and stole a long, hungry kiss from her lips that sent warm vibrations running all the way down to her toes. She felt his teeth gently brush her lower lip as she pulled away.

            Finding herself in an uncomfortable position, she rested her hands on each side of his head, which had been resting on a pillow. With her torso now line- up more squarely with his, her breasts pressed up against his chest, causing him to grow hard under the contact. Then came a less agreeable sensation as the butt of her Glock pressed against his rib cage.

            Adam's soft grunt was enough to stir Julie. Now fully conscious of what she had been doing, she jumped back, away from Adam as if he were a venomous snake lunging for a killer bite.

            "I have to go now," she announced.

            Adam sighed as he watched Julie make her hasty exit, but did not attempt to make any protest. The brief spike in energy caused by Julie's visit had dissipated almost as soon as she left the room, and Adam was sound asleep while Julie's head spun like a weathervane.

_What the hell just happened?_

            That was the question she kept asking herself during the long elevator ride down to the lobby. Dazed, she had not even realized that she had reached her floor and lingered in the elevator, going on another trip upstairs. Neither did she notice the older gentleman in the beige overcoat who had joined her on the way up. Her eyes gazed straight ahead, and she failed to return the man's polite greeting.

            "Excuse me, Miss?" He asked. "Are you alright?"

            At once, she snapped out of her trance.

            "Oh, hello," she began casually. "Yes, I'm fine, thank you."

_Get a grip, Gaffney. You've taken in murderers and drug dealers and lived to tell about it. You can't handle a little kiss from your old boyfriend?_

            She regained her composure as she looked up at the floor indicator, her natural steeliness enhanced by over a decade of service as a police officer in a major city.

            Satisfied that his companion had it together, the gentleman gave Julie a polite nod before stepping off the elevator once they had reached his floor. A few minutes later, she had returned to the lobby floor and stepped off the elevator with a loud yawn as her sleep deprivation finally caught up with her. She had not caught a wink the night before, having been kept up by worried Adam-related thoughts. Deciding that she needed a bit of caffeinated refreshment before hitting the road, she stopped at Coffee Central in the lobby to grab a tall hazelnut and a croissant.

            Fortified by the black brew, Julie took in her surroundings as she sat at a small bistro table outside the coffee shop. One young man with dark brown curls standing in line for coffee caught her eye. He looked like he had just crawled out of bed with his messy hair, stubbly face, and plaid pajama pants. The red Boston University hoodie he wore beneath his blue down jacket drew her attention, and it prompted her to remember Adam's words from the hospital bed.

            " _I was a gigantic douche."_

            Setting down her coffee, Julie was brought back to her freshman year with Adam at BU.

        _The men's hockey team had steamrolled its competition into the Frozen Four, thanks to the dominant play of Adam Banks. The offensive phenom had emerged as the most electrifying college hockey player in the country and was a strong candidate to go pro the next year. BU's lady Terriers were enjoying an impressive run of their own, due in no small part to the quick glove of Julie 'the Cat' Gaffney._

_Julie loved the adulation that she had been receiving, but as successful as the women's team had been, it could not compare to the unadulterated hero-worship that the men were receiving. She noticed that Adam had seemed different during the final weeks of the hockey season. Having constantly been told how awesome he was everywhere he went, he was beginning to develop an arrogance that he had never possessed before._

_As a Duck, he had been used to sharing the stage with less-talented – but more flamboyant – teammates. Having to take a backseat to big egos like Charlie Conway and Dean Portman had always kept Adam's head on straight and his feet firmly on the ground. But at BU, Adam was clearly ‘the Man.’_

_And the side effects of being 'the Man' were beginning to show._

_"Hey, sexy," he greeted Julie with a slap on the ass as he caught up to her._

_She had been walking out of the main academic building and was about to head to her dorm room. With early spring weather upon them, the snow had melted, but it was still cold enough for the pair of college freshmen to bundle up in thick coats._

_Julie rolled her eyes._

_"Do that again and the men's team will need to find a new MVP, Mr. Hot-shot."_

_"Oooh. Kitty likes to scratch."_

_Julie stopped and met Adam's cocky grin with a death-stare, prompting the latter to flash his 'Bambi eyes.'_

_"I'm sorry, Julie," he offered in a self-conscious tone._

_The goalie could not help but smile a little. She felt that 'her Adam' was still there, but 'Adam the Douche' needed to get slapped down on occasion in order for 'Adam the Sweetheart' to emerge._

_"Don't worry about it," she replied. "Play your cards right, and maybe I'll let you make it up to me tonight."_

_He gave her a slight smile. The main perk of their personal difficulties was the makeup sex._

_"I think tonight's as good as any for a movie night," he proposed._

_"Keep talking."_

_"Maybe we could watch_ Die Hard _."_

_"I don't know…your offer's not bad, but it's still kinda thin."_

_"Shall I throw in a foot rub?"_

_Julie stopped walking and grasped both of Adam's hands as she faced him. Standing up on her tiptoes, she planted a light kiss on his cheek._

_"You've got a deal, you lucky boy," she affirmed with an alluring grin. "Come over at 8."_

            Julie was brought back to the present by the sound of her text alert.

 _Hey, doll._ James' text began. _The weather's supposed to get nasty soon, you might want to head home before the storm comes._

            She looked down at her phone. The hospital was within easy walking distance to the old townhouse that she used to share with Alyssa. Should the roads get too nasty, she knew that she could always wait out the storm there. Part of her was tempted to do just that. Having Adam Banks on her mind did not mesh well with James' presence.

            Then she remembered the promise that she had made to Kate to finish reading _The Hobbit_ to her.

 _Good thinking,_ she texted back. _I'm heading out right now._

            She had added the words "I love you' out of habit," but deleted them before hitting send.

* * *

 

            As the snow fell outside, Adam stirred awake in his hospital bed. He could vaguely remember having a pleasant dream that involved Julie visiting him, but it ended quickly and he could not recalll anything else he had dreamed about during his brief slumber. His eyes wandered to the stand by his bed, where he noticed two styrofoam water cups that were partially full.

_ Two cups? Maybe she visited me for real._

            But as he took in the overpowering scent of his father's cologne, he felt that his reunion with Julie had only been a dream. The disappointment was augmented by Philip's presence. Dealing with the man who was both his father and his agent was difficult but necessary. Adam himself had insisted on postponing any medical decisions before Philip had the opportunity to fly into Boston and make his own evaluation.

            Seeing his son stir, Philip stood up from his chair that was about ten feet away from the foot of Adam's bed in the private room.

"Good, you're awake," he called out tersely as he approached. He was joined by a tall, well-built man in his mid '30s whose graying hairs blended in with his platinum-blond crew cut.

            Philip looked over at the two cups. It was obvious that Adam had had a visitor before his own arrival. The 65-year old lawyer-turned-agent thought he had detected traces of a woman's fragrance left behind on one of the cups.

 _Probably one of his whores,_ he speculated.

            "Dad?"

            "How are you, Adam?"

            Before the hockey player could answer, he was cut off by his father.

            "I'd like you to meet your new best friend," Philip began, gesturing toward the younger man standing to his right. "This is Keith Vandenberg, a certified personal trainer. He will manage every aspect of your rehabilitation," he explained before flashing an evil look at the two cups. "And he will see to it that no… _distractions…_ hinder your progress."

            "Pleased to meet you, Adam," Vandenberg offered with a nod.

            "Um, likewise."

            "He has generously agreed to drop all of his clients and handle you exclusively," Philip continued. "And he will be living with you. As part of managing your recovery, he will also manage your household."

            Adam's eyes widened at that last declaration.

            "A bit much for a trainer, isn't it?" He asked. "Was 'running another man's life' part of your coursework, Keith?"

            Vandenberg was about to respond when Philip grasped his arm and shot him a sharp look that said _'Don't.'_

            Philip allowed the awkward silence to hold for nearly half a minute.

_The smug little shit thinks he's a comedian._

            "Sorry," Adam offered at last.

            "Unless you want the last moment of your career to be a pratfall against the Blackhawks, you will give Keith your absolute and unconditional obedience," Philip declared.

            Adam did not harbor any illusions about who would be in charge. Vandenberg was merely Philip's proxy. Agreeing to do the trainer's bidding without question was tantamount to allowing Philip to take full control of his life.

            "What exactly have you decided, as far as surgery goes?" Adam asked.

            "Full-reconstructive is the only viable option," Philip announced. "Of course, _you_ have to be the one to sign-off on it for the doctors; but that's the road you will have to go down. Naturally, the rest of the season is out the window. But do everything Keith says, when he says it…and maybe you'll be fit enough for the Bruins to justify taking you back."

            Adam cupped his face in despair once more. He did not want to agree to _any_ of what his father was proposing, but the old man was a fixture in his life. Philip had always made sure that Adam had the best and latest gear as a child, and slashed the family's vacation budget to finance the boy's hockey camps. His legal and financial acumen made the Banks patriarch a formidable agent, and Adam knew that he owed a large part of his success to his father.

            But Philip's assistance always came with a price: total obedience.

            As a kid, this never struck Adam as a big deal. But now just days away from his 33rd birthday, his relationship with his father had a way of making him feel like less than a man. And the younger Banks hated himself for that.

            He looked up at his father, whose sapphire eye color he had inherited. The hard, unyielding quality of Philip's eyes were absent in Adam's. But the younger Banks tried to match his father's intensity as he returned the gaze.

            "Forgive me," Philip began, "but I believe I missed the part where you said that you agree."

            "You didn't miss anything," Adam corrected his father. "Because I didn't agree to anything."

            Philip's eyes conveyed hot, blue fury. Like a blue flame, his anger was carefully defined and channeled. And it burned much hotter than the yellow stuff.

            "Very well," he replied. "We'll talk when you decide to drop the macho posturing." Philip turned toward Vandenberg. "Let's go, Keith. I'll show you to your new home. It's a lovely place in Lincoln."

            Adam's fists clenched as he watched Philip and his lackey take their leave. It did not matter to Philip that Adam had not agreed to his terms. Philip was going to go ahead and do what he wanted anyway, which meant helping Vandenberg settle into Adam's house.

_Why did I ever give him spare keys?_

            He knew the answer to that question. Philip had managed his household from afar, and having set up the cleaning, landscaping, laundry, and cooking arrangements for his son, Philip could justifiably claim a set of keys to the place for himself…so he could drop in at any time to 'see that things were running smoothly.' Unbeknownst to Adam, the servants Philip had hired also functioned as his father's eyes and ears when the older Banks was home in Edina.

            The hockey player's furious sapphire eyes darted across his hospital room.

_Not a fucking punching bag in sight._

            He grasped the plastic water pitcher and hurled it across the room, smashing it against the wall by the door and leaving a puddle.

* * *

 

            "He's an asshole," Guy protested as Alyssa zipped up his black winter coat.

            "He's your teammate," she replied.

            "I pretty much can't stand him."

            "You guys go way back," she pointed out as she handed him his black winter cap.

            Earlier in the day, Alyssa had suggested to Guy that he should go and visit Adam at the hospital. The weather was bad, and getting worse, but it was a short distance from the townhouse to Massachusetts General. Eventually, Alyssa managed to get Guy to the front door and proceeded to dress him in his winter clothing while he protested.

            "Oh, don't forget your scarf," she wrapped the golden cashmere article around his neck. "There. Adorable," she declared before giving his nose a quick peck.

            Guy sulked.

            "Naturally, I can't allow you to drive all the way back to Beacon Hill in this weather," Alyssa declared. "So you'll have to stay here. Depending on whether or not you visit Adam, either you'll be in my bed, or on my couch."

            Guy glared at the pretty brunette who flashed a mischievous smile in return.

            "I'll wear red, if that makes your decision any easier."

            The grumpy forward perked up at once.

            "I guess it doesn't hurt to talk," he rationalized.

            "That's the spirit!" She opened the door and ushered him out. "Off you go!"

            Before Guy could have any second thoughts, he heard the sound of the heavy black door slam shut. He was only a couple blocks away from the hospital, and decided that brushing the snow off his car and searching for a parking spot on the Mass General campus was more trouble than it was worth. Instead, he made the short walk, though it felt longer in the swirling wind and heavy snow.

_I'm probably not even on Mr. Superstar's visiting list._

            He turned back, facing the townhouse.

_Come on, Guy. Focus. Alyssa. Red lace. Even Mr. Superstar is worth that._

            He turned back, this time facing the hospital. He shook his head but pressed on toward Mass General. He could not find the words to describe in his own mind the bitter disappointment he felt toward Adam. The blond forward had been excited about the mini-Duck reunion, but had Adam shown zero interest in renewing their old friendship.

            And there was a business side to the problem as well. With just one year remaining on his contract, Guy was playing for an extension. And Mr. Superstar's unwillingness to share the puck had deprived him of the scoring opportunities that could have secured a new deal.

            Guy cursed himself as he walked through the electric sliding doors at the main entrance of the hospital. Here he was, having trekked through the snow, visiting someone who did not give a damn about him – just so he could sleep with a woman he was forbidden by team rules to see.

_Man, I'm pathetic._

            He let out a sigh as he approached the visitor's check-in desk. To his astonishment, he was on Adam's visitor list after all. He had expected to be turned away, then he would proceed to kill time at the coffee shop before returning to Alyssa's, having pretended to see Adam.

            Instead, Guy made the trip up to the 5th floor, walked down the hallway and found himself standing outside the open door to Room 42. He could hear Adam laughing, and some other familiar voice, though he could not quite put his finger who the second voice belonged to. Looking into the room, Guy could see Adam speaking into an iPad while sitting up on the bed.

            The injured forward looked to the door with a start when he heard a knock.

            "Oh, Guy!" Adam greeted his teammate. "Come in, sit down!"

            Guy nodded and grabbed a chair before approaching the bed.

            "I'm kinda surprised that you thought to include me on your visitor's list," he announced.

            Adam shrugged.

            "I think all the Bruins were automatically put on it or something."

            Guy's teeth gritted as he offered a fake smile. For a moment, he actually thought that Adam had singled him out as a friend. But the blithe man lounging on the bed managed to extinguish that false hope with a shrug and a casual declaration.

            "Anyway, I'm glad you're here, Guy," Adam continued. "An old friend of ours wanted to see you too."

            The blond forward raised a confused eyebrow before Adam turned his iPad to face him. Guy's hazel eyes widened in shock, then gave way to a cautious, probing look.

            "That's not…Jesse? Jesse Hall?"

            "Yeah, man," the 33-year old African-American male replied with a great, big grin. "Long time, no see."

            "Oh my God, Jesse!"

            Guy seized the tablet from Adam, but the injured forward did not protest. The former 'Oreo Linemates' had lost touch with each other after Jesse had moved to Florida ahead of the Ducks' freshman year at Eden Hall. Like the rest of the Ducks, they had all promised to stay in touch, but time and geography had other ideas.

            "God, it's been so long," Guy declared, his massive grin having remained firmly in place.

            "Yeah, I like to give Cake Eater a call when I hear it's snowing," Jesse explained. "Reminds me of Minnesota. Hey…um…you mind takin' me to a window or somethin'? Adam can't get up with his bad leg."

            "Sure thing."

            Guy walked over to the window and turned the tablet to face the snowstorm on the other side of the glass.

            "Dah-yum," Jesse exclaimed. "Maybe I'm better off in Florida after all."

            After a ten minute Skype conversation between the former linemates that ended with a swap of contact information, Jesse signed off, announcing that he had to get the grill ready for dinner. Returning the iPad to Adam, Guy took a seat next to the bed and could not believe his luck. He had always wanted to get in touch with Jesse, but there had always been something more immediate and pressing to deal with. He had kept procrastinating to the point where he never actually got around to looking Jesse up.

            Looking over at Adam, Guy felt a surge of goodwill toward the man who had been feeling like a 'frenemy' to him for the past few months.

 _Maybe I've judged him too harshly,_ the blond forward thought. He had plenty on his own plate, a superstar like Adam Banks must have even more.

            "Guy?"

            "Yeah man?"

            "I've been a real asshole."

            Guy gave his injured teammate a slight smile.

            "Yeah, we're cool though."

            Adam returned the smile as he extended a clenched fist, which Guy duly bumped. None of the other Bruins had ventured into the snow to visit Adam at the hospital, and Adam deeply appreciated the gesture. He was amazed that the one teammate who bothered to make the trip was one who he had very little time for on the ice, and even less time _off_ the ice.

            But Guy Germaine was a bigger man than most people – himself included – realized.

            "I gotta get outta this fucking bed, man," Adam sighed. "I gotta send you all those goals that I've been kepping from you."

            "How bad is it?" Guy asked. "Is it really a full tear?"

            Adam nodded.

            "Yeah," he glumly confirmed. "It's season-ending surgery for me."

            "Man, that sucks," Guy replied. "But don't worry. We'll have other battles to fight together later on."

            "Thanks…I'm gonna hold you to that!"

            With that simple agreement, Adam’s fight back had begun. And he had a buddy in the trenches with him. For the first time since being carted off the ice, the injured forward felt something that was close to happiness.


	8. The Road to Recovery

            "Almost there," Keith Vandenberg announced from the driver's seat of his black Cadillac Escalade.

            "Terrific," Adam deadpanned from his second row bucket seat on the passenger side.

            The hockey player's surgery had been performed several days earlier, and the hospital cleared his release just in time for his 33rd birthday. With Christmas only five days away, the weather was cold but clear, and the snow accumulated from the previous week shone brightly in the late December sun. The Escalade's black-tinted windows, however, were impervious to the light.

            "I just wanna say, I'm really looking forward to working with you," Vandenberg declared.

            "That's nice."

            The trainer could tell that attempting to buddy-up to Adam would be a waste of breath, and decided to remain silent for the remainder of the drive to Lincoln – which was just as well. Vandenberg was more comfortable in his former role as drill instructor than he was as a pseudo friend. He switched on the satellite radio, then turned the dial to some peppy workout music, drawing a groan from the back. Observing Adam's discomfort, the trainer cranked up the volume with a smug grin.

 _So much for the 'nice guy' routine,_ Adam mused. _And what kind of limp dick decided that everyone has to work out to pop music anyway?_

            He looked down at the black orthopedic boot that covered most of his right leg below the knee. Having undergone a tear, surgery, and rehab on his left Achilles during his stint with the Rangers, he already knew what type of exercises he _could_ do, what he _should_ do, and when he should do them. So he failed to see the need for a live-in trainer.

            The forward cursed his busybody father for imposing Vandenberg on him. But the person for whom Adam reserved most of his anger was himself. Having been laid up in the hospital, he had not been in any position to offer resistance to Philip's plans; but the 33-year old hated himself for allowing his father to dictate his life.

            "Home sweet home," Vandenberg announced as he drove up the cul-de-sac that Adam's house had all to itself.

            As the trainer guided his black SUV onto Adam's driveway, the brooding hockey player thought about how wonderful it would be to stomp on Vandenberg's face…while wearing freshly-sharpened ice skates. Then, he would give his father a 'thank-you' note by stapling it to the trainer's forehead. Finally, Adam would mention in the note that Philip's services as agent were no longer required, but he would be happy to give his father the 'Vandenberg Special' at no cost.

            "Um…Adam? You ready to get out?"

            The hockey player nodded in reply, disappointed that he did not have any ice skates or staple guns on him… _yet._

            Vandenberg stepped out of the Escalade and went round to the back to retrieve Adam's crutches from the cargo space before opening his client's door and positioning the crutches as best as he could.

            Adam swung out of his seat, planting his good foot on the SUV's side step before transferring his weight onto the crutches. He squinted in the wintry sunlight as he hobbled toward the mudroom door as quickly as he could. Despite being on crutches, he had beaten the able-bodied trainer to the spot. He looked back toward Vandenberg impatiently.

            The trainer flashed another smug grin. He wanted to send a message to the hockey player that things were to be done on _his_ schedule, not Adam's. Dressed for winter, he took his sweet time in getting to the door while Adam shivered without a coat on over his navy blue sweatshirt.

            "Oh dear," Vandenberg began. "I believe I lost my keys."

            "Try. Your. Pocket," Adam seethed.

            The trainer feigned confusion as he fished around in an empty coat pocket.

            "Maybe they're in my jeans."

            "Try. Your. _Other_ coat pocket."

            Vandenberg flashed an 'oh, good idea' look.

            "Heh. Silly me," he fished the keys out of a coat pocket before dropping them onto the ground.

            If Adam had been thirty years older, bald, and craggy-faced, he would have looked like a dead ringer for Philip as his blue eyes shot daggers at the trainer.

            "Could you do me a favor and get those?" Vandenberg asked.

            "Could _you_ do _me_ a favor and suck my cock?"

            Vandenberg returned Adam's glare just before kicking the hockey player's right crutch out from under him, prompting the forward to overcompensate on the left and lose his balance before doing a belly flop onto the asphalt. His face was about an inch away from the keys.

            "There. You're closer now," the trainer pointed out. "See? Team work!"

            As Adam reached for the keys, he decided that skate blades and industrial staples to the face were not enough for the platinum-haired interloper. The bastard deserved to hang by the neck from piano wire...after having his balls fed to a rabid German shepherd.

            Vandenberg hunched down and took the keys from Adam's palm.

            "Here, sit down. On your butt," the trainer instructed. "Extend your arms…make a 'T' with them."

            Adam grunted, but complied. The strongly-built trainer drove his shoulders into Adam's armpits and got the hockey player up, but not quite on his feet. Adam instinctively wrapped an arm around Vandenberg's shoulders while the latter carried him into the mudroom.

            Adam landed with a thud on the room's small wooden bench once Vandenberg released him. The trainer turned and went out to retrieve the crutches before returning a few seconds later.

            "Here." He handed Adam the crutches. "A little friendly advice: do what I say, when I say it. Your life will be a lot easier."

            The hockey player glared in response.

            "You wanna play games? Fine. Play games," Vandenberg replied as he turned toward the hallway. "But I own the fuckin' casino, and don't forget it."

* * *

 

            From his oak-paneled home office in Edina, Philip studied the graphs under various tabs on his laptop computer.

_Another day, another dollar and a half._

            The stock markets in New York had closed an hour earlier, and Philip had 'enjoyed' another successful day of online trading. But no matter how much wealth he accumulated, it was never enough. With no more potential trades for the day, he rolled across the polished red oak floor and reached for the crystal whisky decanter that rested on top of a small gray filing cabinet.

            Vandenberg was supposed to have touched base with him half an hour ago, and Philip had grown unsettled. He knew that the trainer he had hired – a former Marine drill instructor, complete with dishonorable discharge – was a rough touch. Despite Adam's need for a disciplined recovery, Philip worried that he was strangling his golden goose.

            The lawyer-turned-agent poured two fingers of the harsh amber concoction into a Waterford tumbler and immediately knocked back a swig. He drank his scotch without water or ice, even when it was a particularly peaty and fiery single malt. And he took a masculine pride in being able to do so without grimacing.

            As he stared at his phone, he tapped his long, bony fingers against the black leather blotter that rested atop his cherry desk…willing Vandenberg to call. The stubby nails on his fingers – stained yellow through years of cigarette smoking – had been chewed down almost to the first knuckle, as if to say 'warning: contents under pressure.'

            The impatient drum roll continued for several minutes before Philip's phone finally went off.

            His gloomy countenance lightened when he saw Vandenberg's name on the phone's screen.

            "Keith, you're late."

            "Sorry, Phil," the trainer replied. "Adam's got some…attitudinal problems."

            Philip resisted the urge to chuckle. The only people he ever heard use the word 'attitudinal' were Marines and former Marines.

            "And in other news, the ocean is wet," the agent deadpanned.

 _I see where he gets it from,_ Vandenberg thought. But he was not about to give his employer any lip. He was being paid far too well to be anything less than perfectly respectful.

            "Anyway, we had a slight misunderstanding when we arrived at the house," the trainer reported. "Long story short, he disobeyed me, and he got a little bruised. It was all on the upper body though, no worries."

            Philip took another sip of whisky.

            "Was that really necessary?" He asked.

            Not that Philip could see the gesture, but Vandenberg shrugged.

            "I had to establish my authority early," he explained. "It's what I did on Parris Island. If you don't let the recruits know who's boss at the start, you'll only have problems going forward."

            Philip looked up as he heard the door to his office creak open and observed his wife quietly walk in. Though she had turned 55 that November, Charlotte Banks did not look a day over 40. With her dyed blonde locks, fit figure and taught skin, she owed her Goldie Hawn-like appearance to good genes, a dedication to clean living, and the best plastic surgeons money could buy.

            "Hold on," Philip instructed the trainer before setting his phone down on the blotter. "Yes, dear?"

            "Is that Keith?" Charlotte asked in reply. "Go ahead and put him on speaker, darling."

            Philip nodded and did as instructed.

            "Keith? You're on speaker now," he informed the trainer. "Charlotte is joining us."

            "Ah, how are you, Mrs. B?"

            The matriarch had taken a trip to the decanter and poured herself a tiny bit of whisky with a great deal of soda water.

            "Marvelous," she answered as she took a seat across from Philip. "And you?"

            "Heh, your son is keeping me on my toes, that's for sure."

            "Nothing you can't handle, I'm sure," she offered. "Hopefully he won't take too much out of you though. You promised to give me your _full_ attention when you returned to Minnesota, remember?"

 _Mmm. How could I forget?_ Vandenberg thought lustfully.

            Philip chewed on the inside of his cheek before taking another swig of whisky.

            "I haven't had a chance to ask my husband, but I'm _sure_ he'll agree…" Charlotte began "...that it may be a good idea to have our older son, Joshua, join us for the holidays."

            Philip and Charlotte had planned on spending their Christmas with Adam in Lincoln, but the Banks matriarch decided that her older boy could be put to good use by getting the younger boy to calm down and 'listen to reason.'

            "Sure thing, Mrs. B," Vandenberg replied. "You know best."

            Charlotte turned to face her husband, looking for his approval.

            Philip returned the gaze, looking into his wife's mint green eyes. He had little time for Adam, and even less for Joshua; but if his wife thought their older son could be of use, who was he to disagree?

            "I concur," Philip deadpanned before lifting his tumbler to his lips, only to discover that he had already drained the glass.

            "Splendid," Charlotte beamed. "Well unless you have anything else for us, Keith, I believe we're done for today. Thank you for calling, and have a nice night."

            "You too, Mrs. B."

            The trainer hung up before Philip had the chance to speak up. There had been one or two trifling details he had felt the need to go over, but his wife ended the conversation early.

            Charlotte got up and refilled her husband's glass before taking a seat on the desktop where she could look down at him.

           "I think _you_ should be the one to invite Joshua," she declared. "He loves it when you throw a little attention his way. It's just not the same when I do it."

            "Do we _really_ need to drag him and his family to the East Coast with us?"

            "He's a fellow shareholder," Charlotte pointed out. "The bit of help we send his way comes from the Adam Stock."

            Philip's lips twisted into an uncomfortable scowl. It was true that Charlotte, Joshua, and himself had all gotten rich off the back of Adam. And he never cared much for either boy. But Philip's moribund conscience had been reanimated as he continued to get on in age, and using Joshua to subdue Adam felt dirty to him.

            Charlotte recognized the source of her husband's unease at once.

            "Do you know why I have always admired you?" She asked, thrusting Philip's tumbler into his hand. "Because you have the _balls_ to do whatever is necessary. Most men don't have that level of courage. I only made the suggestion because I know you'll do whatever it takes."

            She leaned in close to her husband.

            "And that _drives me crazy,"_ she whispered fiercely into his ear with a nibble, causing Philip to jump and slosh his whisky as he felt his prick spring to life.

_The woman is a walking, talking little blue pill._

            "Make the call," she instructed him.

            "Yes, dear."

* * *

 

            Alyssa waited in the hallway as individual Bruins trickled out of the locker room at their practice facility. It had been the team's final practice before Christmas, and while Adam's injury was bad news for the team as a whole, it was a boon for Guy. The blond forward had helped the Bruins tread water during the last two games, earning 4 points for the team and keeping their playoff hopes alive in the process.

            He had not heard from his agent, but Guy felt that the contract extension he had long hoped for had become a question of 'when' rather than 'if.'

            As he emerged from the locker room and took in the sight of Alyssa leaning her long, athletic frame against the wall, an excited smile lit up his face.

            "You know, I'm a bit sore from practice," he announced. "I hope you don't mind making another house call."

            The tall brunette stood straight up and gave her secret lover a teasing grin.

            "Sounds like work," she replied. "I was hoping for a bit of play."

            The hockey player got close and placed his hands on the trainer's hips.

            "Can't you multi-task?"

            He did not give her a chance to answer, opting for a kiss on the lips instead. He continued to hold her close, pinning her between the wall and his taut hockey body as their faces parted.

            "Guy!" She giggled in a nervous whisper. "Not here! Someone will see us!"

            As close as the pair had gotten over the last couple months, they had remained keen to keep their relationship a secret – at least from their mutual employer.

            Alyssa could feel Guy's hard, growing manhood as he pressed up against her pelvis, causing her to shudder.

            "You…you can't help yourself, can you?"

            He decided that they had talked enough, and greedily seized her lips while grasping the back of her head before running them down to the small of her back. Alyssa's prudence gave way to passion as she deepened the kiss and ran her hands through Guy's hair.

            The lovers were blissfully unaware of the jealous eyes that were watching them from the shadows. Trent Weller, a veteran Bruin forward, watched as Guy made-out with the beautiful trainer. At the start of the season, the Canadian-born hockey player had lost out to Guy yet again for one of the alternate captain spots, and the Manitoban envied the blond forward's increased prominence in the wake of the Banks injury.

            The extreme prejudice with which Alyssa had spurned Weller's advances over the years also fanned the flames of resentment.

_Those fucking cunts. Well, two birds with one stone, eh?_

            "Alyssa, we're alone," Guy assured his lover when they again parted for breath. "Let's do it in the locker room, fuck 'em!"

            The trainer slapped the hockey player on the arm but could not stifle her grin. It was fun being bad, and experiencing Guy's well-concealed wild side was exhilarating.

            "Guy…"

            "Yeah, baby?"

            "…I like the things you say."

            A surprised Alyssa shrieked with delight as Guy lifted her off her feet, with one arm tucked behind her knees and the other around her back.

_Heh, so much for being sore, I guess._

            The trainer stood at a good five feet, ten inches but the hockey player had no difficulty carrying her down the hallway and back to the locker room. Weller grasped his phone, got on his tiptoes, and pursued the couple in stealth. The bug-eyed hockey player with a greasy mop of jet black hair peered over the edge of the open doorway to see his teammate and their trainer furiously tearing each other's clothes off.

_Click._

            The topless lovers could not hear the camera snap of Weller's phone while they alternated between stripping and making out. Relieved of her clothes, Alyssa let out a slight gasp as Guy pinned her bare shoulders to a massage table.

 _And I always figured her for a backdoor kinda bitch,_ Weller mused as he took another compromising photograph.

            Several minutes later, the peeping tom decided that he had all the evidence he needed and slunk away just before Guy finished. As Alyssa's spent lover pulled out, her eyes wandered to the open locker room door. The sight caused her panting to end with an abrupt gasp.

            "What's wrong?" Guy asked.

            Alyssa motioned toward the door with her head. Guy felt a shiver run down his glistening porcelain back.

            "Why the _hell_ didn't you close the door?!" She demanded.

            They both knew why, but that had not prevented the trainer from asking the question. The passion of the moment had allowed that important little detail to escape their notice.

            "I'm sure it's ok," Guy assured her, trying to convince himself as he talked. "We're the last ones here, I saw everyone else leave before I met you outside…I swear!"

            But Alyssa could not overcome the sinking feeling that they had been watched.

            "Let's just get dressed and go," she suggested. "No need for us to linger."

* * *

 

            "Oh, sweetie…you gotta spread the ornaments a bit," Julie instructed her unofficial 'stepdaughter' Kate while they decorated the Christmas tree in James' living room.

            The off-duty sergeant reached for a red bulb on one of the branches and moved it away from the other decorations that Kate had clustered together before separating a few other ones.

            "But I can see green!" The little girl protested.

            "But that's a _good_ thing!" Julie replied. "We don't want to forget that it's a _tree_ after all."

            The scrunched up nose on the youngster's face indicated that she was not impressed, but Julie smiled anyway. She loved how thorough and earnest the little girl was in her decorating, even if she required a bit of friendly guidance. As a tomboyish hockey player who grew up with dreams of being a cop, Julie never expected to enjoy or even to _want_ a family life. But she came to the realization that life had a way of helping people discover what really matters to them, even when they never imagined it for themselves.

            "Tell ya what," she began in a hushed tone, "if you space the ornaments out a bit…I promise you can have hot chocolate with marshmallows before you go to bed."

            "I heard that!" James interjected from his seated position on the couch.

            Kate's eyes widened at the realization that they had been caught conspiring, but Julie offered a reassuring smile.

            "Well, go on," the former goalie encouraged the girl. "A promise is a promise."

            Kate smiled and got to work spreading out the ornaments while Julie took a seat on the couch next to James. The 32-year old leaned in and gave her 44-year old boyfriend a peck on the cheek.

            "A little bit of bribery doesn't hurt now and then," she declared.

            "Interesting thing for a cop to say."

            "Interesting thing for a lawyer to dismiss."

            "Har-dee-har-har," James replied as he stood up with his empty collins glass. "Want any eggnog, my shining beacon of ethics?"

            "I'm good, thanks."

            He nodded before he turned and made his way to the kitchen to refill his glass. As the lawyer disappeared, his 12-year old son, Andrew, emerged from the hallway that led to the bedrooms.

            "Hey, Aunt Julie."

            Her eyes widened at the sight of the sandy-haired boy with sapphire eyes dressed in blue jeans and a black Bruins T-shirt with long sleeves.

_Don't be ridiculous. He's James' son, not Adam's._

            Still, the resemblance to the boy Julie crushed on at the Junior Goodwill Games was striking.

            "What's up, Andrew?"

            The boy shrugged.

            "Just grabbing a soda. You want anything from the kitchen?"

            "No, thanks, honey."

            Julie let out an exasperated sigh as the boy made for the kitchen, bracing herself for more Adam-related thoughts. Her first love had zig-zagged in and out of her mind over the past week. Though she had not initiated the kiss with Adam at the hospital, she felt terribly guilty about it, and the recurring thoughts – having always been a nuisance – had become positively maddening. And Julie's efforts to conceal them and put on a tranquil façade had the effect of intensifying the thoughts, and the guilty feelings they induced.

            Despite all of her private mental affirmations to James, and all of her prayers to get Adam out of her mind, it had become obvious to her that her original flame had dimmed, but never died. Short of getting a lobotomy, or getting hold of a neuralizer from the _Men In Black_ films,  Julie had no idea what to do about it.

            Though she had become less religiously observant as an adult, the 'Catholic guilt' imprinted during her conservative upbringing continued to chastise her for adultery of the mind. Having been taught that 'sinful thoughts' were just as bad as 'sinful deeds,' this weighed heavily on her conscience.

_How can I really love one man when my heart belongs to another? I'm cheating on both of them._

            Desperate for something, _anything_ to get over Adam, she opted for a bold, if counterintuitive strategy: confront him directly.

_If being away from him has fueled all this…maybe seeing him face-to-face will help._

            After all, they had broken up 14 years earlier for a reason. Maybe, _just maybe,_ seeing Adam again would hammer that reason home once and for all.

            At this point, it was the best that Julie could come up with.

            She figured that with Adam being a high-profile athlete, he would have taken all the necessary precautions to make looking him up difficult. But she had two Bruin insiders: Alyssa and Guy. Julie doubted that Alyssa as a trainer knew Adam's home address, but Guy as a teammate and old friend could very well be in possession of that knowledge. The former goalie wasted no time in firing off a text to the blond forward.

_Hey, Guy. Please don't ask why, but could you give me Adam's address – if you have it?_

            "Heh, good thing you didn't want any eggnog," James declared as he returned to the living room with a full glass. "Because this is the last of it."

            Julie hastily pocketed her phone as if it contained a full confession.

            "Um, are you alright, doll?"

            "Of course, darling," she replied. "If we're out of eggnog, I can run to the store.”

            "Aw, you really don't have to," he replied. "It might be better this way. Save me from myself," he added with a slight smile.

            "It's no problem," she insisted as she got up from the couch. "Nothing's too good for you."

_Yes, nothing is too good for him. He's perfect, and he deserves better than me._

            "Well…in that case, off you go," he replied with an appreciative smile. "Thanks, doll."

            Julie nodded and moved to grab her black overcoat from the small closet by the apartment's entrance. She preferred being away from James whenever Adam was on the mind, and shopping for the lawyer's eggnog provided her with a useful excuse to get away.

 _He's a real sweetheart,_ she thought of James as she threw on her coat. _What were you thinking asking for Adam's address, anyway?_

            She decided that her latest bout of Adam Sickness was about to pass as she walked down the hallway toward the elevators.

_That really was a lot of silliness. Adam's been driving me crazy, so the solution: go and see him? Get a grip, Gaffney._

            She straightened the front of her coat as she stepped onto the elevator, hopeful that Adam would stop haunting her mind.

            As the elevator descended from the penthouse floor to the lobby, Billy Idol's _Don't You Forget About Me_ played softly in the background. The realization that the '80s bad boy had become elevator music struck Julie as both depressing and a reminder that she was not getting any younger herself.

            She reached for her phone as she felt it vibrate in her front pocket.

_Hey, Julie._

            Guy had responded with Adam's home address, and he provided it as instructed: without asking any questions. But being a former Duck, Guy was obviously aware of Julie's past with Adam, and he added the words 'good luck' at the end of his message.

 _Thanks, Guy,_ she replied as the elevator stopped at the lobby.

            The former goalie took a deep breath as she stepped off. Her mind did not know where she would go from there, but her heart did.


	9. Holiday Angst

           The clean, beige leather interior of Julie's Ford Edge was perfectly quiet, save for the occasional interruption from the GPS that instructed her where to turn. But as she left the high rises of the city for the sprawling houses of the suburbs, Julie's mind was locked in furious combat with itself.

_So, you think you can just waltz into Adam's, do ya? What are you gonna do, flash your badge again?_

_No…I'm visiting him. As a friend._

_Ha! Keep telling yourself that._

_His birthday was a couple days ago. I'm sure he'd love it if I dropped in._

            As useful as the birthday excuse was, it came with a drawback: she did not have any gift to give the birthday boy.

            While she debated turning back and buying a gift, the expansive lawns and imposing mansions ahead indicated that Julie had arrived in Lincoln, 01773 – one of the wealthiest ZIP codes in America. Despite its quaint town center, the place mostly consisted of a few really big houses – belonging mainly to professional athletes – separated by vast seas of densely-wooded snow. Not that Julie had ever spent much time in Middlesex County, but it always amazed her how quickly and how completely the urban landscape of Boston gave way to rural woods.

            Though Adam's house was still a little ways away, Julie knew that she had reached his home turf.

            Having entered the town limits, she decided against turning back to buy a late birthday gift. She was in no mood for a lengthy detour, and she had the slight problem of not knowing what she could possibly get a multimillionaire who probably had everything he could have ever wanted already.

            As she closed in on her destination, Julie had no idea what she was going to say or do. She had a birthday-related pretext for visiting, but lacked a gift. She knew that she was still attracted to Adam, but felt very strongly for James, Andrew, and little Kate. She did not know what she was doing, or what to expect from this meeting, but she found herself irresistibly drawn the stucco-gray mansion that stood alone on a cul-de-sac, surrounded by leafless trees whose trunks and branches were coated with snow.

 _This place must be really beautiful in the summer…even more beautiful in the fall, _Julie thought about all the lush shades of emerald that would surround the house during the warmer months, which would later give way to vibrant scarlet and amber in the fall.

            She drove up the empty driveway, noting the 4-stall garage and loft to her right as she parked. The large gray structure looked like it had the square footage to comfortably house a family of four. Julie could only imagine what obscenely-priced vehicles were parked on the other side of the white garage doors.

            She felt that her humble Ford Edge was ridiculously out of place in this setting, but shrugged it off before getting out and walking briskly to the front door. Upon reaching the front step, she observed a security camera hanging just over the top right corner of the dark blue front door.

_Last chance. You can back out now and walk away with your dignity intact._

            But Julie ignored the voice in her head and rang the doorbell.

            Seated up in Adam's den, Keith Vandenberg studied the security monitors and discovered an attractive woman waiting at the front door.

_Must be one of the whores Phil warned me about._

            Still, if she was a prostitute, she was a rather tastefully-dressed one, and she gave off a clean vibe. Figuring that his risk of contracting a disease was minimal, Vandenberg decided to meet the woman at the front door.

            "Hello?" He called into a microphone from the den.

_That doesn't sound like Adam._

            "Um…hi," she replied. "I'm Julie Gaffney, an old… _friend_ …of Adam's. I just wanted to stop by and wish him a belated happy birthday. May I come in?"

            "Wait just a minute," Vandenberg instructed her. "I'll be right down."

            Julie shrugged her shoulders, having expected some sophisticated computer-controlled locking mechanism that would preclude the need for someone to come down and personally open the door.

_But it's better than being told to 'get lost.'_

            After a minute or two of waiting in the cold, she turned with a slight start as she heard the heavy front door open.

            "Why, hello," came the voice.

            Julie studied the man it belonged to. He was tall, well-built, with platinum-colored hair and had a chiseled, square face – Germanic features.

_Dutch, maybe?_

            He was obviously American, but Julie took a stab at the man's possible ethnicity.

            "I'm sure Adam appreciates the uh… _birthday visit,"_ Vandenberg stated. "But for reasons that don't concern you, he is unable to see you."

            "Oh," Julie replied softly. "Alright, well thanks anyway," she added before turning to leave.

 _Such good manners,_ Vandenberg thought.

            "Wait a minute," he called out, prompting Julie to stop in her tracks.

            "Yes?"

            He closed the door behind him and moved to close the short distance between himself and his female visitor who was about fifteen feet away from her car.

            "Adam can't see you," Vandenberg reiterated. "But I'd hate to see you waste a trip. What's your rate?"

            Julie's green eyes widened.

            "I beg your pardon?"

            "No need to be coy," he replied with a grin, turning on the ‘charm.’ "How much do you charge for a good, hard fuck?"

            "You’ve _really_ got the wrong end of the stick, Mister."

            "Oh, playing 'hard-to-get' are we?" His icy blue eyes looked her up and down. Even through her winter overcoat, he could tell that she had nice tits.

            "You have yourself a merry Christmas," Julie offered before turning toward her car when Vandenberg grabbed her by the wrist.

            "You're not going anywhere," he declared. "Now enough games. Get inside, _now."_

            A single, well-placed punch caused the trainer to crash belly-up onto the cold asphalt.

            "Pig," she huffed as she got into her car.

* * *

 

            "I'm back, everyone!" Julie announced as she entered the penthouse she shared with James.

            Her boyfriend looked up from the couch and noticed that she had returned empty-handed.

            "Hey, doll," he greeted her. "Aren't we forgetting something?"

            She gave him a puzzled look. Her encounter with the grabby blond man at Adam's house and her hasty escape had served to push all other thoughts to the back of her mind. She had still been a little flustered when she had arrived home.

            "The eggnog?" James asked.

            Julie's eyes widened as she forgot her entire reason – or excuse _–_ to have ventured out in the first place.

            "I'm so sorry, honey."

            But James brushed Julie's apology off with an easy smile.

            "Don't worry about it, doll. I was just a little surprised, that's all."

            "I can go…"

            "Leave it! It's fine. The stuff is basically liquid fat, and I've already had way too much of it."

            "I really am sorry."

            "Julie, it's nothing – really!"

            He had no idea why she was being so apologetic, but he was determined to find out.

            "Come, sit down," he patted the space next to him on the couch. His kids were playing in their bedrooms, leaving the adults alone.

            Julie could sense that an interrogation was imminent, and recalled, as she sat down, the tactics of some of Boston's more intelligent criminals when brought in for questioning: agree to obvious truths, be vague, and don't volunteer any shred of 'free information.'

            "So…what's been bugging you?"

            She shrugged.

            "Who said anything's bugging me?"

            "I did," James answered. "Why were you so flustered just now?"

            "I forgot the eggnog."

            "Yes…yes you did. May I ask where you went, if you didn't get the eggnog?"

_At this point, a suspect with at least two brain cells would say "ask whatever you like, I ain't answerin' til my lawyer gets here." But I can't really say that._

            Then she remembered the second tactic: be vague.

            "It's a surprise," she replied with a flirty grin.

            "Oh?" James asked, returning the grin. "Could you give me just a little hint?"

_Don't volunteer any shred of free information._

            "But that would ruin the surprise," she explained. "It won't be so nice if you figure it out."

            James sighed, but gave Julie a slight smile.

            "Alright, fair enough," he conceded. "I actually had a surprise of my own for you, but because I lack your self-control, I'm going to tell you what it is right now."

            Julie raised an intrigued pair of eyebrows.

            "I secured four tickets to the best choir in town," he announced. "You, me, Andrew, and Kate are going to listen to the Marsh Chapel Choir perform Christmas carols."

            Julie had gasped at the words 'Marsh Chapel,' but James had heard Julie's surprise at the end of his sentence.

            "Well, I guess Jimmy did good," he mused with a grin, enjoying Julie's shocked expression.

            "Uh, yes. Jimmy did _very_ good," she replied.

            But Julie's shock was not at the considerable talent of the choir, or the impressive fact that James had managed to get into their hugely popular Christmas show. No, Julie's shock had everything to do with the Marsh Chapel itself, not its choir.

            James grunted as he felt his phone vibrate. His eyes widened at the name on the screen.

            "Sorry, I better take this," he declared before getting off the sofa and heading to his home office to talk to an important client in private.

            But Julie had not noticed James' departure. The specter of Marsh Chapel had brought her back to that fateful day fourteen years earlier…

_18-year old Julie Gaffney decided to give it one last go. May had arrived, and her freshman year at BU was drawing to a close. The 2001 NHL Draft was due to take place the following month, and Adam expected to go early in the first round. She knew that it would be unreasonable to ask him to withdraw his name from consideration at this late stage, but being drafted by an NHL franchise did not necessarily mean that Adam had to drop everything and sign with them right away. Plenty of drafted players had opted to stay in college for another year before re-entering the draft the following year. Why should Adam join the NHL before he was at his best?_

_She hoped that he could be persuaded to stay at BU for just one more year, not merely for her own sake but for his as well. So she threw on a red Terriers T-shirt, a pair of little black gym shorts, and a pair of white sneakers before making the short trip from her dorm room to Adam's one floor below._

_Arriving at his door, she knocked and waited a few minutes before it opened to reveal a drowsy Adam._

_"Good morning, sunshine," Julie greeted him with a perky smile. "Wanna go for a run?"_

_"Ugh."_

_"Am I to take that as a ‘maybe’?”_

_"I've been getting up at five every morning for practice all year," he groaned. "This is the first Saturday that I've got to sleep in."_

_Julie frowned in reply._

_"I guess not then," she offered in a hushed voice._

_Sensing her disappointment, he mustered one of his "Nah, I was just playin' with ya smiles" before changing his mind._

_"Just give me a few minutes. You can wait in here if you like," Adam opened the door wider to allow her into the cramped single._

_"I guess I'll just look away," she suggested, turning toward the door to give him some privacy while he changed out of his pajamas._

_"Such a prude," he teased. "I'm amazed you've lasted in hockey locker rooms as long as you have!"_

_"Hmmpf," Julie folded her arms before turning to face Adam._

_He had slipped out of his pajama shorts and T-shirt to reveal himself in a skimpy pair of black boxer briefs. Julie's eyes widened at the sight of his tight abs, toned legs and not-so-little friend. Hockey definitely was not the boy's only gift. Flustered, she turned back to face the door._

_"What? You've seen me in less than this before," he pointed out._

_"Context, Adam. It's all about the context."_

_She realized that she was being a bit ridiculous, but she would never give him the satisfaction of hearing her admit that._

_"Anyway, let's go!" A fully-dressed Adam enthused, ushering Julie out the door in blue gym shorts, a white T-shirt, and gray sneakers._

_"Wanna do laps at the track?" He asked._

_"Bor-ing," Julie replied. "Let's run around the campus perimeter. More to see."_

_"Works for me. Shall we start in front of the chapel?"_

_With its twin spires, and Gothic façade, Marsh Chapel was a distinct landmark, making it an ideal reference point for laps. The word 'chapel' hardly did the structure justice in terms of its size and severe beauty – the edifice had a rather medieval quality to it, despite its 1950 construction. And its association with Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. added further to the gravity of the place._

_Once they arrived at the cross-patterned tiles of the chapel promenade, Julie and Adam stretched for a bit and were off to the races._

_The pair made a little small talk about the pleasant weather as they jogged down Commonwealth Avenue, but as they turned east and began heading toward the Esplanade along the Charles River, Julie's mind turned back to her original purpose._

_"Gorgeous isn't it?" She asked, indicating the riverside park area with her head._

_"Sure is."_

_"Do you really want to leave this behind?"_

_Adam grunted and picked up the pace, running away from the unpleasant turn of the conversation both literally and figuratively. But Julie easily matched his pace._

_"Is this…why you…brought me out here?" His breathing had become more labored as his pace quickened._

_"Partly," Julie confessed._

_"Typical," Adam huffed._

_"Don't be like that."_

_But he refused to have this conversation, and he continued running in silence along Back Street. Once they reached Bay State Road, Julie persisted._

_"It's not just…the campus," she pointed out as she kept pace with Adam. "What about…your skills? One more…year in college...could be…really good for you."_

_"You saying…I'm not…good enough…to go pro?"_

_"No…I'm saying…that an extra year...of college hockey…can make you…even better."_

_"Ha!"_

_"Just because…a team drafts you…doesn't mean you have to…go pro right away."_

_Adam shrugged as he ran._

_"I'll learn as I go," he declared. "I won't be young…forever. Why burn…another year in college?"_

_Julie sighed as they got close to the ironically-named 'BU Beach' – a large grassy patch without a single grain of sand or drop of water._

_"What about me?" She asked._

_"Hockey wives have it pretty sweet."_

_Julie scoffed._

_"What, so I'm supposed…to drop everything…and be your housewife?"_

_"You say that…like it's a bad thing."_

_Julie was disgusted. She had her own ambitions and did not see why she should throw them all away because of one guy – even if that guy happened to be Adam Banks._

_"Let's take a short cut," she proposed, turning toward the walkway leading to BU Beach._

_Adam nodded in agreement while slowing his pace. They weren't far from Marsh Chapel._

_"How many laps are we doing?" He asked._

_"One will be enough, I think."_

_"Fine."_

_With their run abbreviated, the pair began walking to cool down as they approached the campus chapel from behind._

_"You know, Julie," Adam began, "it's not like Boston is the only city with colleges. I'm sure you can transfer to one in whatever city I end up playing in."_

_"I can't just get up and go," she protested. "What about my hockey scholarship? My teammates? I can't go pro when I graduate, so the Terriers are all I have. I want to get my full four years with them."_

_"You don't even need school anyway," he retorted. "I'll be loaded in about two months. Isn't the whole point of college to land a nice-paying job? Well the money will be all taken care of for you."_

_"No…college is_ not _all about landing a well-paid job. I want to make a difference. I don't want to be some baby-pumping hockey wife who only hangs out with other baby-pumping hockey wives."_

_"Well. It sounds like we're just getting in each other's way at this point," Adam declared as they stepped onto the cross-patterned tiles in front of the chapel._

_"Adam…" she reached for his arm, only to have her hand slapped away._

_"No. I'm about to enter the NHL, Julie. The NHL," he sounded a bit awestruck by the last three letters. "I'll be up against the best of the best, and I'll need all the support I can get. And if you can't give it to me…you're just going to be in my way."_

_Julie's jaw dropped at Adam's coldness. It seemed to her that in Adam's eyes, she was merely an obstacle to be avoided or overcome. Not the girl that he loved above all else. She could not remember the last time she had felt so insignificant._

_"Goodbye, Julie."_

            "Hey, doll."

            Julie was brought back to the present by James' familiar greeting.

            "We'll be heading out in about an hour, so you might want to get ready."

            "Yes, darling."

* * *

 

            "Hey, Vandy," Adam greeted Vandenberg between chest fly reps on an inclined bench as the trainer shuffled into the gym with a massive shiner. The ex-Marine despised the nickname, so Adam made sure to use it at every opportunity.

            "Heh, what's with the beauty mark?" The hockey player asked.

            "Oh, some uppity random slut," Vandenberg grumbled. "She was here for you, by the way."

            Adam raised a curious eyebrow.

            "I told her that your recovery process was serious, and that I couldn't allow any distractions," the trainer falsely explained. "Your father had warned me about your...female companions."

            "Yes, I bet," Adam seethed. "Dad still hasn't accepted that I've got a penis."

            Vandenberg chuckled.

            "Well whore away when I'm gone," the trainer invited the hockey player. "But while you're under my watch, you'll have to keep it holstered. The Boss was quite insistent about it."

            "Honestly though, I didn't invite anyone over," Adam pointed out. "I wonder who it could have been."

            Vandenberg shrugged.

            "I didn't catch her name. Pretty little number…cleaner-looking than most in her profession. Blonde hair, green eyes, nice legs, nicer tits…shitty little attitude," he added that last bit bitterly.

            "And a mean right hook apparently," Adam quipped, drawing an evil look from the trainer which only served to lift the hockey player's spirits.

            "Hang on…" Vandenberg began, rubbing his temples in thought "…she _did_ give me her name. Julie something. I think her last name began with a 'G.' Julie Griffin, maybe?"

_Julie? My Julie?_

            Based on the physical description that Vandenberg provided, Adam wondered if 'Julie Griffin' was in fact Julie Gaffney.

            He dropped the dumbbells onto the gym's black rubber floor with a start.

            "Well, I guess you're finished," Vandenberg figured. "Think you can make it back upstairs on your own?"

            "Huh? Oh, yeah. This house has an elevator, so I'll be good."

            "Right."

            The trainer turned and moved to leave Adam's basement gym, leaving the dazed hockey player alone on the bench.

            "Bye, Vandy!"

            The departing trainer flipped Adam the bird on his way out.

            Adam chuckled as he recalled Vandenberg's black eye.

_That's my Julie. The dumb ape probably had it coming. Just like Sanderson and Stahl._

            Then Adam felt the sudden onset of anger as he remembered how the trainer had objectified his first love – even using the word 'slut.' He had been with plenty of women after Julie, and those 'relationships' had been almost purely sexual…and very short-lived. Adam was not above objectifying women, but hearing the crude treatment get applied to Julie made him furious. And the realization that Vandenberg had pushed her away –  who in all likelihood would never return to the house – added fuel to the fire that was smoldering inside of him.

_He thought she was a prostitute. My Julie, a prostitute! That bastard…_

            Unable to give the trainer the slow death by strangling that he wanted to, Adam channeled his fury into a brisk but hobbled walk to the bathroom behind his gym, leaving his crutches behind before strapping off his boot and stepping into the seated shower stall. After a quick shower, he toweled off, threw on his boot, along with a fresh set of gym clothes and a clean pair of boxer briefs from the cubby, then hobbled to his crutches and stepped onto the creaky little elevator that took him to the bedroom floor.

            Once he had reached the sitting area in his master bedroom, he hunched down and picked up his phone that had been resting on the wooden end table by the sofa. He was intending to look up "industrial strength staple guns" for his unwelcome housemate when he discovered an unread text message from Guy.

 _Hey…you guys doing alright?_ It read.

 _Strange message to leave,_ Adam thought.

 _What do you mean?_ He texted Guy back.

            A minute or two later, Adam got his response.

_I gave your address to Julie a while ago…hope you're not mad. She asked me for it. Please tell me you guys didn't get into a fight._

_No, I didn't see her. She was turned away at the door by my father's errand boy._

_Oh. Bummer._

_Yeah. Hey…you gave Julie my info. Could you give me hers?_

            Guy instinctively copied and pasted Julie's new address from his contacts, but stopped himself before he could send along the information. He knew that she was living with a boyfriend – an older boyfriend. With kids. Guy had no idea what Adam knew or did not know about Julie's personal situation, but he did not want to risk hurting a friend by revealing the truth.

_Guy? I'd really appreciate it if you could send me her address. Or something, anything._

            The blond forward chewed on the inside of his cheek as he mulled over his options. For all he knew, his old friends' intentions toward each other were purely innocent. But he knew of their history, and he was aware of the strong feelings they had aroused in each other when they were younger.

 _I'll do you one better,_ Guy texted back at last. _I'll arrange for you guys to meet at my place. She'll be surprised, and love it I'm sure._

_Oh, ok. Thanks, man._

            Guy let out a relieved sigh, having satisfied Adam while leaving it to his two friends to figure out for themselves what the nature of their relationship would be.

* * *

 

            The Marsh Chapel Choir performed beautifully, as expected, and James was about to leave with the children in high spirits when he noticed that Julie had not gotten up from the pew they had been sitting in.

            "Um, Julie?"

            "Could you give me just a minute, darling?" She asked. "I won't be long. I'd just like to make a quick prayer."

            "Oh, sure thing. Let's go kids," James ushered his children into the aisle. "We'll be in the car whenever you're ready."

            "Thank you."

            With its ornately-carved wooden statues, stained glass windows, and tall organ pipes peeking out from behind the altar, Marsh Chapel was not the average campus chapel. The place filled Julie with a solemn, humble feeling that had nothing to do with its connection to her breakup with Adam. She truly felt God's presence in this place, and with that lofty presence, she felt that there was no room for deception.

            Fourteen years earlier, after Adam had stormed out of her life and she had recovered her senses, she had turned and entered the chapel. The Protestant church lacked the pew kneelers that she knew from her Catholic childhood, but she went into a pew and knelt directly onto the floor. And she begged God to help her forget about Adam Banks.

            That prayer had gone unanswered, but Julie hoped for better luck fourteen years later. This time, she was not hoping to forget about anyone.

 _Please, God. Give me the strength to do right by James, Andrew, and Kate,_ she beseeched the Almighty.

            Deciding that she did not want to "keep the lines tied-up," she made a sign of the cross, got up, and walked out of the chapel into the cold but clear December night.

            "Everything alright?" James asked as Julie slipped into the front passenger seat of his Audi. Andrew and Kate were seated in the back.

            "Yes, I think so."

            She had really meant that she "hoped so," but did not want to create any more anxiety for James.

            Back in Lincoln, Adam sat bundled up in a black Bruins fleece and beige winter coat on the small balcony outside of his master bedroom. With the arrival of his family from Minnesota, he had been keen to spend as much time outdoors and away from them as possible. Rehabbing in private, he also missed the cool, crisp air of the arena, and these outdoor retreats in the cold helped to fill some of the void created by living a life away from hockey. Looking over at the large, oval-shaped frozen pond on the border of his property, he cursed his healing Achilles – for it denied him the ability to go skating.

            But as his gaze moved away from the pond and toward the distant, night-lit skyline of Boston, something else had occurred to him.

            He would be meeting Julie at Guy's place in three days’ time.

            He did not know what to expect, and he still was not even sure whether Julie's hospital visit had been a dream or reality. But he knew that he wanted her...with far greater intensity than he had ever felt before.


	10. A Steamy Encounter

           Adam took his seat at the middle of the long dining room table in his Lincoln mansion. With its wall-to-wall mahogany, richly-furnished china cabinet, elegant crystal chandelier, and imposing cherry table surrounded by matching chairs with black leather cushions, the dining room conveyed opulence and stately dignity.

            He hated it.

            Even when he had company, the hockey player typically ate his meals in a cozy little dining space in the kitchen. With its wide bay windows, the alcove got plenty of sunlight, and Adam had always enjoyed watching birds visit the feeder while he ate breakfast.

            But with his parents in town, along with his older brother Joshua and his family, he had to eat in the room that felt like a stuffy old museum to him. Joshua had brought along his wife Amy and their 11 and 9-year old daughters Amanda and Caroline. The presence of the young girls helped to lighten Adam's mood, and he thanked his lucky stars that his nieces were growing up in the age of electronics.

            He had not expected their arrival, so he did not have time to go out and shop for Christmas presents. Instead, he grabbed two unused Apple gift cards that were lying around in his den and passed them along to the grateful little girls.

            The pair of blonde girls had been playing on their electronic gizmos for nearly the entire visit, while their father, Joshua, did their best to avoid their grandmother, Charlotte, by hanging out with Adam constantly. Amy, meanwhile, had quietly polished off nearly one fifth of a vodka bottle, and it was beginning to show in her loud laughs and slurred speech.

            One of the servants noticed this and poured only a half serving of California zinfandel into her wine glass.

            Once the plates were filled and grace was mumbled by Philip, the family plus Keith Vandenberg began to eat. Now in the presence of his genteel parents, Adam realized that his eating habits had coarsened over the years, and he drew a disapproving glare from his mother as he shoveled-in dark turkey meat and stuffing.

            "My goodness," the Banks matriarch declared. "I wish they made _vacuum cleaners_ with that much suction power."

            Keith choked as he laughed with a mouthful, prompting Philip to slap the philandering trainer on the back with considerable relish.

            Adam set his fork down and looked over the sterling candelabra to meet his mother's reproachful gaze. He recognized the familiar look that plagued his childhood, the look that said "Go ahead. Try me. I'll squash you like a bug."

            "Forgive me, Mother."

            Charlotte's glare gave way to her passive-aggressive _"o_ _f course, darling,"_ pseudo smile.

            The group ate in silence for several minutes. Though lacking in conversation, the atmosphere was rich in contempt and laden with stiff table manners. It was a familiar feel for the Banks boys, and Joshua moved to break the intolerable silence.

            "This stuffing is positively delectable, Adam."

            The hockey player turned to look at his brother. Four years Adam's senior, Joshua had a long and lean build with a thick head of dark brown hair that was beginning to gray. Despite having played on the Hawks as a young boy, Joshua lacked the athleticism of his younger brother and became a certified public accountant after graduating from Northwestern University.

            Before Adam could respond to Joshua's compliment, Amy staggered into the conversation.

            "Yeaah. Must have been real hard getting the servants to cook it. Right, Adam?"

            Joshua's horrified blue eyes looked past Adam toward his wife, who was sitting on the other side of his younger brother. With her fair skin and strawberry blonde locks, Amy Banks was on the pretty side, but she had a knack for embarrassing her husband in front of his family. Joshua could see that his wife had started early that day.

            "Ooops. My bad," Amy chuckled with a drunken flick of the wrist that knocked her wine glass over. "Ah, shit."

            Charlotte bit her tongue. The Banks matriarch had wanted Joshua to come visit Adam, and the price of the older Banks boy's admission was having to suffer the presence of his vulgar wife.

            Joshua stood up from his seat and helped Amy to her feet.

            "I'm so sorry, everyone," he apologized. "I think she needs a nap."

            "Good thinking," Charlotte replied

            Adam looked down at his plate as Joshua ushered Amy out of the dining room. The hockey player liked his sister-in-law, and he liked her irreverent sense of humor that drove Charlotte and Philip up the wall. Anyone who could irritate his parents always got high marks from Adam. But he felt embarrassed for her, and sensed that she had a growing problem with alcohol.

            The rest of the group ate in silence for several minutes before a self-conscious Joshua returned to his seat.

            "She'll be fine, everyone," he assured the group. "Don't worry."

            "Perish the thought," Charlotte whispered with her lips concealed by her wine glass.

            _That evil old witch,_ Adam thought.

            He grasped his brother's arm and gave him a soft smile that said "hang in there."

            Joshua gratefully returned the grasp and the smile before turning back to his plate.

            The Banks matriarch noticed this little brotherly exchange and suppressed a satisfied grin. She had been hoping for the two to bond. Getting the brothers to look out for each other seemed a sure-fire way to get Adam to accept parental 'guidance.'

            "Keith tells me that you're making excellent progress, Adam," Charlotte declared.

            "Yeah, well, I do everything on my own," the hockey player replied. "That's how I function best."

            Vandenberg glared at his insolent client, prompting Adam to flash a smug grin at the trainer seated directly across from him.

            "Typical," Philip growled. "The boy never could share credit. No wonder that McGill kid sent him into the goalpost all those years ago."

            Adam's eyes burned with indignant rage as his father justified Jake McGill's cheap shot during the Pee Wee Championship that sent a 12-year old Adam to the hospital with a concussion.

            "Now, _dear_ ," Charlotte began, looking toward her husband. "There's no need to bring that up," she added before turning her gaze toward Adam. "Though it wouldn't kill you to be a bit more generous in acknowledging other peoples' contributions to your success."

            "What do you want me to say, Mother?" Adam demanded. "That forcing a trainer on me that I don't need has somehow aided my recovery? Or that crushing my independence at every turn has helped me grow as a man?"

            Charlotte's eyebrows flew up in surprise. She had never expected Adam to challenge her to her face. But she quickly slipped on her passive aggressive mask and moved to placate the 'insolent boy.'

            "Of course not, darling," the Banks matriarch began. "And if you feel that Keith's services are not required, we'll be happy to take him back to Minnesota with us. But you can't expect your father and me to be disinterested observers, because we _care_ about you. And we _love_ you."

            Adam's lips twisted into a scowl. He hated being spoken to like a child, and that had always been Charlotte's specialty. On the other hand, she _was_ offering to take Vandenberg off his hands.

            "Fine," he replied. "Take Vandy back home and I'll agree to keep you two filled in on my recovery, and other aspects of my career."

            Charlotte nodded in agreement.

            "Done."

            "Good."

            Philip turned toward Charlotte, stunned that she had agreed to remove their proxy from Adam's house.

            "Are you sure…" he began in a whisper.

            Charlotte glared in response, annoyed that her husband dared to second guess her.

            "….never mind."

            The Banks matriarch whispered some instructions into her husband's ear, but Adam could not hear them from the other side of the table. Whatever she had said, Philip had agreed readily enough with an eager nod.

            Soon after, the servants cleared the plates and brought out dessert. Once the decadent chocolate cake had arrived, Adam excused himself, desperate to get away from his parents. Deciding that he needed some fresh air, he threw on his beige winter coat and made his way to the back patio – the thick snow having been cleared out by a servant.

            The large, in-ground pool had been covered up for the winter, though the adjacent hot tub still worked like a Swiss watch. Most days, however, Adam preferred to sit or stand in the cold, and today was no different. He had always found the cold winter air therapeutic.

            "Mind if I join you?"

            Adam turned toward the sound of his brother's voice and saw Joshua stepping out onto the patio in a black and gray winter jacket.

            "Not at all," Adam replied.

            "Heh, you and the cold," Joshua mused as he got closer. "Always like peanut butter and jelly – you and the cold."

            "Reminds me of hockey arenas, I guess."

            "And the fact that our mother hates the cold is an added bonus, I guess," Joshua noted with a wry smile.

            "That...witch," Adam narrowly avoided a harsher epithet. "God only knows what she was whispering to Dad just now. Some brilliant new plan to beat me into submission, no doubt."

            "Please don't bite my head off…but have you ever considered that maybe she has your best interests at heart?"

            Adam gave his brother an incredulous look.

            "I mean, yes, she can be overbearing, and even nasty," Joshua conceded. "But she's gotten you results. She and Dad, that is. I mean, look at this place," he spread his arms and gestured around Adam's impressive property.

            "I earned this place through my own hard work."

            "Adam, deep down, she only wants the best for you."

            "You…you can't be serious! She put you up to this, didn't she?!"

            "No, really she didn't," Joshua insisted, but Adam turned away in disgust. "Adam, listen," the older brother pleaded as he turned the younger man back to face him. "Mom and Dad…we barely talk anymore. When we do, it's either me begging for a loan, or one of them calling to ask when they are going to get paid back.

            "But a few days ago, they invited me and my family out to see you, in your awesome new house. I was so excited. For once, there was no talk of money. It would just be us as a happy family making a holiday visit. So I said 'yes' in a heartbeat."

            Adam's sympathetic sapphire eyes took in the sight of his brother. It was obvious that the older Banks brother was willing to forgive any transgression of his parents in exchange for just the tiniest bit of affection.

            But Adam could not relate.

            All he wanted was to recover from his injury and resume his playing career without any parental interference. And to reconnect with a certain goalie who had grown up in Maine.

            "Josh," Adam spoke up, "I'm not going to continue giving our parents a blank check to run my life. You may want parental attention at all costs, but I don't."

            As soon as he made that hurtful declaration, he regretted it. He meant every word of it, but had failed to come up with a more tactful way of expressing it.

            "Heh, Mr. Big Shot," Joshua scoffed. "Doesn't need his family. Doesn't need his friends. Hey, do you know how many Ducks approach me in Minnesota and ask about you? Why do you do it, this 'too-cool-for-school' act? Does it make you feel like a big man?"

            Adam glared at his older brother. He no longer had any doubt that Charlotte had put Joshua up to this conversation.

            "Why don't you go back inside…and ask our mother what to say next," he suggested.

            Joshua let out a mirthless chuckle.

            "Wow, you're even farther gone than I thought," he declared. "Such an obnoxious brat."

            Adam's eyes narrowed.

            "When your wife wakes up, I want you to leave my house."

            "Heh, my pleasure, your highness."

            Joshua made a dramatic 'royal bow' before turning and stomping back into the house, leaving Adam alone in the cold – a familiar position for the younger Banks. He had always been able to draw strength from isolation in the past, but having cast aside so many people in pursuit of his ambition, part of him began to wonder if it was all worth it.

* * *

 

            Julie made the short walk from the penthouse she shared with James to Guy's apartment that was only two blocks away. The lawyer had taken his kids back to their mother's place, and had told Julie ahead of time that he would need peace and quiet to work on an important case once he returned. So he did not have any qualms about Julie heading over to an old friend's place for a "Boxing Day brunch," despite being unaware of any such custom.

            The former goalie was only vaguely aware of December 26th as a foreign holiday when wealthy Brits gave presents to their servants, which went on to become a holiday where people all over the Commonwealth enjoyed watching sports on "the telly." In America, it had always been the day when everyone and their mother invaded the shopping malls to return unwanted Christmas gifts. But Julie decided that it would be better to enjoy the day with her friends.

            She was greeted at the door by Alyssa, and wrapped her former roommate in a sisterly hug.

            "Happy Boxing Day!" Julie enthused.

            Alyssa chuckled as she flashed a bemused look.

            "So is that really like a thing, Boxing Day?"

            "The calendar says so," Julie declared. "And who are we to question the calendar gods?"

            "Works for me," the trainer replied, ushering her friend inside.

            As she slid out of her coat, and put away her boots, Julie took in her surroundings. Only a little bit of white paint peeked out on the walls from around the massive collection of framed hockey jerseys, team photos, and other memorabilia. The walls of the apartment appeared to be Guy's illustrated autobiography, immortalizing each and every one of his teams from District 5 up through the Boston Bruins.

            It struck Julie that all of her hockey memorabilia was packed away in Bangor. A look around her new apartment or her old townhouse would never lead anyone to guess that she had ever played hockey. She seriously doubted that her 15 or 16-year old form would recognize the woman she had become, and that realization made her feel a tinge of sadness.

            "Well come on," Alyssa snapped Julie out of her brooding. "Sit down, take a load off," the trainer indicated the leather couch.

            Julie did as instructed, taking a seat on the firm black leather.

            "We got you your hazelnut," Alyssa announced. "Can I make you a cup?"

            "I'd love to see you try."

            The trainer chuckled as she turned and made her way into the kitchen. Alyssa had never been the least bit domestic, and she had mooched off Julie's cooking for years. Now living on her own, she was beginning to learn her way around the kitchen, and her visits to Guy's apartment always provided valuable tutorials.

            Even if the lessons were abruptly ended by passionate kissing.

            As Julie moved to grab the remote control from the coffee table, she heard a knock at the door.

            "Julie? Could you get that please?" Alyssa called out from the kitchen.

            "I'm on it," she called back.

            The off-duty sergeant got up and made her way to the door. She had been under the impression that she would be Alyssa and Guy's only guest, and was curious to see who was on the other side.

            Julie opened the door and thought her eyes would fall out of their sockets as she took in the sight of Adam Banks. She opened her mouth to say "hello," but her voice failed her.

            "Um, hi," Adam greeted her. Unlike Julie, he had known that the reunion was coming and was able to appear cool about it – even though his heart was racing beneath his beige winter coat and black Bruins fleece. Though his orthopedic boot was visible, he had made sure to leave his crutches in his car and hobbled into the elevator without them, unwilling to let Julie see him as a weak invalid.

            "Hi," Julie managed at last.

            "May I come in?"

            Having been released from the hospital several days earlier, Adam appeared more alive than he had during Julie's bedside visit. His hair, though thick and just a little bit wild, did not look like it had been slept on; his face was stubble-free and dabbed with an intoxicating aftershave, and his sapphire eyes were wide awake – giving the appearance of staring directly into her soul.

            "Julie?"

            And the way her name sounded on his strong but silky voice would have caused her heart to melt – had it not been beating like a drum solo. But she got it together enough to respond.

            "Yes – come in, please," she opened the door wider to allow him in. "I didn't know you'd be joining us on this fine Boxing Day."

            Adam laughed slightly as he crossed the threshold.

            "Boxing Day? Isn't that the day when rich Brits give their servants presents?"

            "Um, yes. I think so. Now it has more to do with sports. Where did you learn that from?"

            "From you," he replied with a grin that said 'where else?' "That's how you explained it to me years ago, anyway."

            Julie was touched that Adam had remembered such a little thing, though she was slightly embarrassed that she had not been able to recall the event herself.

            As she led him into the living room, Adam looked over Julie from behind. She was dressed in a cream-colored wool sweater and a pair of dark blue jeans that showed off her shapely legs. And just enough of her perfect curve that pressed against the jeans peeked out beneath the sweater.

            Julie Gaffney was a woman who did not even have to _try_ to look irresistible.

            "Oh, Adam!" Alyssa called out in surprise, carrying a green mug of coffee. "I didn't know that you'd be joining us."

            "Guy invited me," he replied. "Don't worry, your secret is safe with me."

            "Heh, thanks," she smiled uncomfortably. Alyssa still felt that someone had watched Guy make love to her in the locker room several days earlier, and was a bit paranoid.

            "Here you go," the trainer handed Julie the mug. "What do you think?"

            Julie took a sip of the bitter brew and stifled a grimace.

_Seeped too long in the French press._

            "Delicious," she lied to spare Alyssa's feelings.

            "Aw, you're too kind. So Adam, can I get you a coffee? Or tea, perhaps?"

            "I'll have whatever she's having," he indicated Julie with his head.

            "Comin' right up."

            The trainer returned to the kitchen while Julie and Adam took their seats next to each other on the couch.

            "What flavor is that, anyway?" He asked. "Hazelnut?"

            She smiled softly, flattered that Adam remembered her favorite coffee flavor.

            "Want to taste for yourself?" She asked, extending her mug toward him.

            He grasped her velvety fingers that were wrapped around the mug and leaned in close for a sip. She stifled a gasp at the close contact, and resisted the urge to throw the mug away and makeout with him on the spot.

            He guided the mug to his lips, still keeping his hand over hers, and took a sip. Their contact broke once he began sputtering.

            "God, that's terrible. Exactly how I remember it."

            "Heh, yeah, you never liked this stuff," Julie acknowledged. "Though in all honesty, Alyssa needs to work on her brewing technique."

            Adam continued coughing, prompting Julie to set her mug down on the table, draw him close and give a few slaps on the back.

            "I'm fine, really," he insisted, recovering his voice from the coughs as he looked up.

             Julie had moved in closer to him on the couch. A lot closer. As his eyes wandered down to those thick, pink lips, Adam decided that a true gentleman would have to get between them and the winter cold.

            Cupping her soft, milky cheek, made white by the season, he ran his hand above her ear and behind her head. Her thick blonde locks were like a warm, fragrant blanket on his fingers. As he pulled her in, Julie draped her arms around his neck and closed her eyes. Their lips connected like missing puzzle pieces, causing Julie to moan softly while Adam grew harder against her thigh.

            As their lips parted to give their tongues room to dance, he grasped her by the hips and pulled her squarely onto his lap, prompting even more growth on his part. She seized his face with both hands before running them down to his hard pectorals and deepening the kiss.

            Adam moaned in delight. The only time he ever enjoyed the taste of hazelnut coffee was when it had a generous helping of Julie mixed into it.

            After a quick breather, he tried to kiss her again, but she pulled away.

            "Adam, not here…we can't…"

            Julie covered her mouth to stifle her delight as Adam got up from the couch while lifting her up and holding her in his arms. It was a very athletic move, but that came as no surprise to her.

            Having again tasted the woman of his dreams after fourteen long years, Adam's brain released all the natural painkillers it could muster, enabling him to carry her to the bathroom without limping on his bad leg. Transferring Julie's weight to one arm, he wiped the marble countertop free of all debris before setting her down on top of it.

            "Getting a bit warm in here, don't you think?" He asked rhetorically before sliding his fleece and his white undershirt off, exposing his chiseled upper body that had just enough fine light brown hair to make it manly without being furry or manicured.

            Julie hopped off the countertop and began parting with her own clothes while Adam slipped out of his designer jeans. Rational thought gave way to passion as they littered the bathroom tile with their clothes. Standing there in her scalloped pink bra and matching panties, Julie lustfully nibbled her bottom lip as she took in the sight of a black-clad Adam.

_Black boxer briefs? He knows that's not fair._

            She 'corrected' the 'injustice' by seizing the offending garment from his body and releasing the glorious manhood that it held captive. He wasted no time responding in kind, sending Julie's lingerie to the floor with the speed and fluency of a man with years of experience under his belt.

            Before either of them could have any second thoughts, he grabbed her by the hips, pressed her up against the locked bathroom door and began making furious, desperate love to her…as though she would vanish if he let up.

            Wrapping her bare thighs around his slender waist, Julie moaned and ran her hands through Adam's mane while he went in deeper. No one she had ever been with since college could possibly compete with him. After a few blissful moments, her toes began to curl in anticipation as he neared the sweet spot. She gave him an early award for his efforts by massaging his muscular back while he labored for her pleasure.

            A satisfied moan and a hard press into his back informed him that he had reached his target just as he became spent.

_Perfect synchronization._

            For all of their past drama and time apart, there was no denying that the physical chemistry they shared was nothing short of incredible. And there was nothing for either of them to compare it to.

            He released his grasp and gently set her feet onto the bathroom tile. The coldness of the tile caused Julie to shiver, prompting Adam to wrap his arms around her waist and hold her close. She leaned in to his embrace and rested her head against his taut chest as he gently cradled her. Julie had never known such a combination of strength and gentleness outside of Adam Banks.

            "I suppose we better straighten this place up," he suggested.

            "Mmm. I could stay like this forever."

            He smiled as he turned her around to face him, tucking a long strand of hair behind her ear.

            "You sure?" He asked. "You've never missed a Boxing Day brunch before. Do you really wanna start now?"

            She giggled before separating from the warmth of his hard, familiar body.

            "I guess not," she replied, scanning the mess they made. Clothing, underwear, and various toiletries were strewn about all over the place, giving the bathroom the appearance of having endured a hurricane.

 _That wouldn't be far wrong,_ she mused to herself.

            Once they had gotten dressed and had straightened the bathroom out to the best of their ability, Julie and Adam followed the smell of French toast, eggs, bacon, and sausage and made their way to the dining area in Guy's kitchen.

            "Oh, I was just about to call for you guys," Alyssa announced, seated at the round wooden table for four. "I'm afraid Adam's coffee went cold."

 _I beg to differ,_ he thought, unable to stifle a mischievous grin.

 _Well, I guess those two have had a memorable Boxing Day,_ the trainer mused as she observed Julie's flushed face and Adam's slight swagger.

            There was hardly any daylight between the pair, as Adam kept close to Julie, unwilling to let her feel discarded after the event. The former goalie felt a mixture of appreciation and intense desire at the same time.

            "Yes, brunch is ready," Guy announced, still wearing a solid black kitchen apron over his sweater and jeans.

            The other three moved to line up in the kitchen and fill their plates in response.

            "A man who can cook," Julie declared. "You better hang onto this one, 'Lyss."

            "I'm doing my best," she replied before giving Guy a light peck on the cheek. "Does Adam cook?"

            "Um…are you asking Julie or me?"

            Before Alyssa could specify, Julie offered her reply.

            "Well, his popcorn always had a certain…smokiness to it," the former goalie teased.

            "Heh, that's right," Guy agreed, taking off his apron. "Adam was famous for burning popcorn. It always amazed the rest of the Ducks. He's so good at everything else, but he can't microwave popcorn to save his life."

            "It's an acquired taste, I'll admit," Adam acknowledged. "But no one ever forced you to have seconds, _Guy-Ger._ "

            "Point taken," the blond forward conceded with an impish smile.

            Eventually, the four of them settled round the table and enjoyed a hearty brunch. While Adam, Alyssa, and Guy shared a lively conversation, Julie was in a bit of a daze. Her head was spinning from her steamy encounter with Adam, and she made only small contributions to the conversation while eating very little.

            The thick, spicy sausage on her plate would go untouched, having already gotten a generous helping only moments earlier. James and his children never crossed her mind during this time. The only thought that she could really register was how badly she wanted...how badly she _needed_ Adam.

            Once Alyssa cleared the plates, Adam turned to Julie.

            "Y'know, I was thinking…would you like me to show you around my place?"

            "Yes," she answered without a second's hesitation.

            He smiled as he grasped her hand underneath the table.

            "Alright, then."


	11. A Lion and a Lioness

           Julie grasped Adam's hand beneath Guy's kitchen table, massaging the hockey star's palm with her thumb. She fought the urge to jump on top of him and do it on the table once he released his grip and placed his hand on her thigh. As he ran his hand up and down her leg, she bit on her lower lip. They may have gone their separate ways fourteen years earlier, but he seemed to recall in precise detail exactly where and how she liked to be touched.

            She shivered with delight as he stroked the inside of her thigh, his strong, experienced hands tantalizingly close to where she wanted his touch the most. Normally, Julie despised skirts, but now she desperately wished that she had worn one. She stifled a soft, disappointed moan as Adam broke contact with her and straightened up in his seat.

            "Hey, Guy," he called out. "Thanks for brunch, man. It's been real."

            The blond forward looked disappointed as he carried in a red game box from the living room closet.

            "Leaving before Scrabble?"

_Heh. If I stayed for that, I might just die of excitement._

            "You know I'd love to play," Adam began. "But my folks and my brother are waiting for me back at my place. I suppose I better hang out with them before they fly back to Minnesota," he lied.

            "Oh, of course," Guy agreed, setting the Scrabble box on the kitchen table before extending his fist toward Adam, which the latter bumped. "Thanks for stopping by!"

            Adam nodded as he stood up.

            "Thanks for having me," he replied. "You're an awesome cook, by the way. Thanks again, Guy…Alyssa," he turned back toward Julie. "And it was nice seeing you again," he added with an alluring grin.

 _Damn him,_ Julie thought. _Wait…he's not leaving without me!_

            "I have to go too," she announced. "I uh…just got a page from the precinct. Something's up. Anyway, uh, thanks for brunch, Guy. See ya later, 'Lyss."

            "Oh, okay," Guy replied softly. "Well, thanks for coming. Take care out there, Julie."

            As Alyssa observed Julie shoot up from the table and close the distance with Adam, the trainer rolled her eyes. Nevertheless, she was happy to see Julie connect with someone other than James, a man who Alyssa felt was never right for her former roommate.

            "Yes, stay safe," she teased Julie with a wry smile before turning to Adam. "And get on some crutches, Mister!"

            Adam glared at Alyssa for reminding Julie of his injury and making him look weak. As if his own body had forgotten about his bad Achilles, he suddenly felt searing pain emanating from his repaired tendon once the Julie-related endorphins had dissipated.

_Fuck. That hurts._

            But he was determined to do his best not to limp to the elevator. All he had to do was make it down to his Bentley, and his driver would take it from there. He moved toward Guy's apartment door as best as he could, though the effort to appear healthy and strong caused him to sweat bullets as his injury continued to assault him with sharp pangs with every step he took. He tried to push thoughts of stepping on broken glass out of his mind, but the pain he was feeling was analogous to it.

            Julie could tell that he was uncomfortable, and for the first time since reconnecting with him, she looked at him with real pity as they threw on their coats – hating the fact that someone who trained as diligently as Adam could be betrayed by his body with the frequency that he had been.

            Once his visitors were out the door and in the hallway, Guy returned to the kitchen table and began setting up a Scrabble game for two.

            "It's too bad that Adam and Julie had to leave," he declared. "This game is more fun with more people."

            "Ah well, we'll make do," Alyssa replied, carrying in two tall glasses of iced tea. "Here you go," she set one glass down in front of her boyfriend, causing him to chuckle.

            "What?" She asked.

            "Oh, it's just…I really thought I was the only one who drank iced tea year round."

            "I guess you've finally found someone who's just as wild and crazy as you are."

            "Heh, I guess so," he replied, cupping her chin and drawing her in for a light kiss on the lips.

            Inside the elevator at last, Adam pressed his palms onto the railing and took as much weight as he could off of his right Achilles. He could not help letting out a sigh of relief, and there was no way for Julie to miss it.

            "You're hurt," she declared. "It's your injury, isn't it?"

            "I'm. Fine."

            "You're lying."

            "Just who do you think you are, my mother?!"

            Julie frowned as she pushed the button for the lobby, prompting the elevator doors to close.

            "I hurt you…when we were…you know…in the bathroom," she speculated. "Didn't I?"

            "No, no, no," Adam insisted.

            In truth, his Achilles had been aggravated entirely by his own doing. Julie had not asked to be carried into Guy's bathroom, and she _certainly_ had not asked that she be given it while standing.

_Though she didn't complain, either._

            Julie crossed her arms and leaned against the wall opposite Adam as the elevator began its descent. If Adam had only just become aware of how badly his Achilles hurt, Julie had only just realized what she had done. She had gone from loving Adam in her mind to loving him with her body. That stark realization gave her an overwhelming feeling of guilt.

            And uncleanliness.

            She rubbed her hands against her forearms, trying to shoo away imaginary bugs that were crawling all over her flesh. She desperately wanted to go home and take a shower…but that would mean going back to her apartment.

            Her apartment that she shared with James.

            "Julie," Adam began in a soft voice, prompting her to look up. "I'm sorry that I snapped at you just now," he offered. "I guess I'm just frustrated. My family _did_ visit me, for real. But they've left. It didn't go well – I'm sure that comes as no surprise. Between that and my injury…I'm just sick of people trying to help, I guess."

            Julie had been lost in her own guilty thoughts when the elevator bell ringed, indicating that it had stopped at the lobby.

            "Julie?"

            "Huh? Oh, Adam, I'm sorry," she offered. "I was kinda zoning out there. What were you saying?"

            "Do you forgive me for being a dick just now?"

            Seeing a contrite Adam humble himself before her had the effect of lightening her up, and she gave him a teasing smile.

            " _Just now?_ " She asked. "What about your long-term, historical dickery?"

            "Ha-ha," Adam mock laughed as he wrapped an arm around her waist and walked her off the elevator. "But since you asked, sure. I apologize for that too."

            "Well, I guess I can forgive you then."

            "Good. I didn't want you to be mad at me during our trip to Lincoln."

            The apartment building's doorman opened the front door to let Adam and Julie out, and the pair was immediately greeted by howling December winds. Fortunately, Adam's driver had managed to secure a spot close to the front of the building. Seeing his master emerge, the chauffer hopped out of the driver's seat of the idling Bentley Mulsanne.

            Julie bit on her lower lip as she took in the sight of the sexy James Bondesque car.

            She had been a loyal Ford driver since the age of 16, but she could never resist the lure of European luxury sedans. And this elegant silver machine had a sporty character to it as well.

 _Plus anything British is classy,_ she noted, blissfully unaware of modern trends in pop music.

            "Back already, sir?" The chauffer greeted Adam as he opened the rear passenger side door.

            "Yes, Jeeves," the hockey star replied with a teasing grin.

            The man's name was in fact 'Gerald,' but Adam felt that 'Jeeves' was a more appropriate name for a manservant. And poor Gerald was in no position to correct his master. The temptation to refer to Adam as 'Bertie' was unbearable some days.

            The Bruin turned back to Julie.

            "After you, m'lady."

            Julie stopped gawking at the sleek sedan to focus on Adam.

            "Wait, what? You're taking me home?"

            "Yes…" he began slowly. "Remember? I offered to show you around my place back at Guy's, and you said 'yes’?"

            "Oh, yeah. Of course."

_If you say so. I just wanna get inside that car!_

            Adam took Julie's hand and gave her knuckles a light kiss before ushering her into the backseat. With its black rugs, and pearl white leather, the car's interior was crisp and ultramodern. Complete with individual climate control and a television monitor facing her from the head of the front seat, Julie felt like she had entered her own private space shuttle as she sat down and fastened her seatbelt.

            She had no idea how long Adam had owned this car, but it still smelled new, and she loved that fresh, clean scent.

            One thing that stood out like a sore thumb, however, were the metal crutches that were poking in from over the front console. As Adam gingerly took his seat from the driver's side of the car, Julie felt a pang of sympathy.

            He must have been in tremendous pain, but he had done his best to downplay it.

_That's the Adam I know._

            "Nice car," she offered, avoiding the sensitive topic of his injury.

            "It gets me from A to B," he replied. "You know, we can stream videos on these screens," he indicated the twin screens in flush with the front seat heads.

            With a few quick taps on his control panel, he brought up an old '90s favorite that he used to enjoy with Julie during their time at Eden Hall.

            "Oh my God! _Ten Things I Hate About You?!_ It's been so long!"

            "That's not even the best part."

            "Oh?"

            Adam raised his hand and pressed a button, prompting a large iPad to gently lower from the ceiling, which settled into a viewing position between the two of them.

            He pushed another button, bringing the movie onto the larger screen.

            "I never liked those dinky little screens in the seats," he declared.

            Gerald gently eased the Bentley onto the street and began driving, but his passengers hardly noticed that the car was moving. The soft suspension made Julie feel like she was hovering on a cloud, but Adam was determined to pamper her like the princess he had always seen her as.

            "You warm enough?" He asked, activating her heated seat before she could respond.

            Julie sighed as her eyes began to close in contentment, the warmth of her seat gently enveloping her in an invisible blanket. Her eyes opened again as Adam continued talking.

            "There's also a seat massage," he mentioned, turning that particular feature on.

            "Mmmm."

            Adam had forgotten how much he had enjoyed making 'the Cat' purr. He reached over and grasped her smooth, and surprisingly dainty hand. The only drawback of the roomy backseats was the distance between them, and he had to settle for holding her hand instead of a closer cuddle. But he enjoyed the light contact. Being able to hold Julie in any way after so many years felt better than anything he could remember.

            It even surpassed winning the Stanley Cup during his glory years in Tampa.

            "Don't fall asleep on me, Cat," he teased in a soft voice. "You'll miss the movie."

            She opened her eyes, and looked at the man who had stolen her heart before breaking it all those years ago. If handing her mended heart back to him was wrong, she did not want to be right.

            Her sultry bedroom eyes locked onto him.

            "So what are you gonna do to keep me awake when we get home?"

            Adam's soft smile widened into a flirty one.

            "A magician never gives away his secrets," he explained before raising her fingers to his lips and kissing them again.

            "Mmmm."

* * *

 

            As Adam's manservant eased the Bentley into the massive garage attached to his Lincoln mansion, the hockey player's right Achilles burned like the fires of hell. He knew that he had pushed his luck through his… _exertions…_ and decided against pushing it further by showing Julie around the house.

            The former goalie sighed happily as she unfastened her seatbelt.

            "Julie?"

            "Yes?"

            "I think it would be better if Jeeves guided your tour, rather than me."

            She giggled at the butler's Wodehousian name.

            "Is that really his name?"

            "Heh, no," Adam confessed. "But it suits him, don't you think?"

            Julie slapped him on the arm, but laughed along.

            "That's mean," she protested. "What's his real name?"

            "Gerald, Madame," the manservant interjected as he opened her door. "At your service."

            Julie grasped the butler's outstretched hand and stepped out of the car.

            "And I'm Julie Gaffney," she replied. "Pleased to meet you, _Gerald."_

            The bald middle aged man with the wispy gray mustache gave the off-duty sergeant a genial nod, appreciating the young woman whose courtesy stood out among his master's typically haughty guests.

            " _Bertie_ over there suggested that you show me around the place when you have the time."

            Gerald chuckled at Julie's moniker for Adam.

            "It would be my pleasure, ma'am," he replied before looking over her shoulder to his master. "Excuse me, please."

            The butler went round to the driver side of the Bentley to open Adam's door and usher him out, then handed the hockey player his crutches.

            Once inside, Adam went ahead to the elevator and up to the master bedroom to get off his feet while Gerald showed Julie around. The former goalie was impressed by Adam's luxurious digs, but a few things stood out to her. Trophies rather than books dominated the bookcases, and nearly every room seemed to have a large punching bag suspended either from the ceiling or a metal stand.

            The hockey player's kitchen looked like it was equipped to feed an entire army on short notice. Not only were the pantry, refrigerator, and walk-in meat freezer well-stocked, but the 12-burner stove and wood-fired brick oven gave the appearance of cooking on an industrial scale. Julie had seen her share of wine coolers over the years, but the largest of them was only about 3 feet high and held 30 bottles. Adam's wine cooler, by contrast, dominated an entire wall; and she imagined that the shelves inside contained hundreds of bottles.

            "Hungry boy," she mumbled.

            "I beg your pardon, ma'am?"

            "Oh, nothing. It must have taken you a while to get used to working in such a massive kitchen," she speculated.

            Gerald gave the off-duty sergeant a hearty laugh.

            "I should think that it would have, but I don't do the cooking," he replied. "A chef visits every Tuesday and cooks Mr. Banks' meals for the week before placing them in the refrigerator to be reheated later. I prepare my own meals in my kitchenette."

            Julie decided that exploring Adam's house – impressive though it was – was simply uninteresting without him, so she decided to end the tour.

            "Well, thank you for showing me around, Gerald," she offered. "I think I'm going to head upstairs and find Adam."

            "Oh, very well then," the butler replied. "Shall you be staying the night, ma'am?"

            "Oh…I don't know. I don't think so."

            Gerald nodded.

            "I will prepare one of the guest rooms, just in case," he offered. "Mr. Banks is probably upstairs relaxing. Just head down the hallway, go up the stairs, and you'll find the master bedroom behind the third door to the right."

            "Thank you."

            The two exchanged friendly nods then went their separate ways. Eventually, she found herself standing outside the door to Adam's room and gave a knock.

            "Adam?"

            "Come in, Julie!"

            She opened the door to discover him lying on top of his bed in his white undershirt and black boxer briefs while playing with his phone.

            "My, we sure are casual, aren't we?" She teased as she closed the door.

            He shrugged.

            "This ain't the Ritz."

            "Oh? You could have fooled me. This place is incredible!"

            He shrugged again.

            "Sit down," he offered. "Take a load off."

            Julie set her bag on top of the oak dresser before making her way over to the ivory-colored sofa in the room's sitting area that was dominated by a 60-inch 3D television.

            "Um, ok," Adam murmured as he observed Julie take her seat away from the bed. "Everything cool?"

            "Yeah, I guess," she replied. "I'm just not ready for another romp in the sack right now."

            "Well, technically we haven't done it _in the sack_ ," he pointed out. "Not in the last fourteen years, anyway."

            Julie rolled her eyes.

            "Control yourself," she admonished.

             He gave a quick nod before sliding under the sheets to hide his growing manhood.

            "Getting cold?"

            "Uh, yeah," he agreed. "Why don't you just sit here? That way we can talk normally instead of calling out to each other."

            "Heh, I suppose that's a good point."

            The former goalie got up and made the short trip to Adam's king-sized bed. Feeling up the Egyptian cotton bed sheets with her palms, Julie realized that she had never been on a more luxurious bed in her entire life. It would take every ounce of her considerable willpower to fight the urge to strip off her clothes and fall asleep next to Adam right then and there.

            As gorgeous as Julie was to Adam, he thought she looked slightly ridiculous being fully clothed on top of his bed. But he was not about to press her into getting into something more comfortable – like her birthday suit. Having finally reconnected with the only woman he ever loved, the last thing he wanted was for her to think that he was only interested in her body.

            "So…what was that name you called me back in the garage?" He asked, breaking the silence. "Billy or something?"

            "Heh, no. _Bertie,"_ she clarified.

            "Who's that?" He pressed. "Gerald seemed to think it was pretty funny, like it was some kind of inside joke. You two haven't met before, have you?"

            Julie shook her head.

            "No, we never met before today," she answered. "You called him 'Jeeves', the name of that clever butler in the old Wodehouse novels who served a witless master…named Bertie."

            Adam rolled his eyes, but his grin indicated that he had not taken offense.

            "Oh, you are just _so_ funny. So I'm Bertie, am I?"

            "Bertie's not so bad," Julie explained. "He's actually a kind-hearted man. A bit clueless, though. He always means well, but things tend to go wrong…and his butler Jeeves usually has to bail him out."

            "So that's where Jeeves the Butler comes from?" Adam asked. "I always thought that 'Jeeves' was one of those terms that's been around forever."

            Julie nodded.

            "It's been around for a while – since the 1930s at least," she affirmed. "But everything has to start from _something._ Even if people can't remember the starting point. No one remembers that Andy Warhol coined the term 'fifteen minutes of fame,' but everyone knows that phrase."

            "Andy Warhol…he's the soup can guy, right?"

            Julie laughed at Adam's unflattering description of the famous artist.

            "Yes, he was the soup can guy. He also had a knack for coming up with memorable, snappy phrases."

            Adam gave Julie an adoring closed-mouth smile as he reached over and palmed her cheek. As a boy and later as a man who had little time for anything other than hockey, he admired and appreciated Julie's capacious mind that seemed to house a limitless supply of knowledge.

            "What?" She asked, returning the grin.

            "Nothing. I just forgot how nice it was having an encyclopedia around."

            Julie shrugged off Adam's compliment. Having been several years removed from the dating game, her flirting skills were a bit rusty.

            "Well, there's always Wikipedia," she pointed out, indicating his phone. "Always good for quick knowledge on-the-go."

            "Heh, true, I guess," Adam agreed pulling Julie's face closer to his. "But I can't do _this_ with Wikipedia."

            He closed his eyes and stole a passionate kiss from her lips, prompting Julie to close her own eyes and return the gesture. As Adam threw off the sheets and explored the warm, strawberry-flavored depths of her mouth, he felt himself grow even harder.

_We're gonna have to do something about those damn clothes._

            Pinning her shoulders to the bed, he knelt over her and grasped the bottom of her wool sweater while his tongue continued to work its magic. He lifted the bottom of her sweater, exposing her taut, cream-colored stomach. But he was not about to let the exposed flesh get cold.

            Once they parted for air, he brought his face down to her stomach and began kissing the supple flesh, prompting a shiver of delight to run up Julie's spine. He continued raising her sweater further, peppering her abdomen with kisses along the way. Once he reached her breasts, she lifted her arms over her head and allowed him to slide the garment off completely.

            Before he could relieve her of her bra, Julie reached for the bottom of Adam's undershirt.

            "Fair is fair," she declared with a flirty grin.

            He nodded and raised his arms over his head, allowing Julie to expose his upper body. Taking in the sight of Adam's muscular chest and chiseled abs, she unzipped her jeans and allowed him to yank them off with gusto – before grabbing him by the shoulders and pinning his hips to the bed with her bare thighs.

            He would have protested the rough treatment, but he found the view far too enjoyable – especially after Julie had cleared away the bra-related obstruction.

            Had it been up to him, he could have drunk in that gorgeous sight all day long.

            But she had her own agenda.

            Julie grasped his face with both hands and began kissing him fiercely. Having been drawn out of his stupor, Adam began working to remove her skimpy pair of scalloped pink panties, the last barrier between the two of them.

            No longer hindered by lingerie, Julie let up her kissing and stared into Adam's eyes as she stroked his cheek. Her own eyes darkened with desire. He could see that the lioness who liked to dominate him had come out to play. He knew from experience that resisting her would only make her more aggressive.

            He liked that...to a point.

            Flashing a teasing grin as he slid out of her grasp, he braced himself for a bit of feline ferocity.

            She did not disappoint, having grabbed him violently by the shoulders before briefly stroking his cheek again. After nipping at his nose, she threw him down to the mattress with a growl.

            He moaned as she allowed him in and began grinding, all the while running her hands against his chest, sometimes with her palms but usually with her nails. Getting clawed by the lioness was part of the ritual.

_But every lioness needs her lion._

            He threw her to the side, drawing a growl that he met with a roar, causing her to shrink into the sheets.

_Now she knows who's boss._

            She gasped as he re-entered, pressing her fingers into his back while he gave it to her.

            "Keep going," she pleaded a few minutes into it.

            "You like that?"

            He thrust in deeper, drawing a purr.

            He picked up the pace and went in even deeper while she continued to pant and massage his glistening back.

            Given his enviable equipment and his skillful handling of it, Adam was the one man for whom Julie never needed to fake.

            Her back arched and her toes curled as he closed in.

            "Oh…yes, yes, YES!" She climaxed with a squeal.

            Adam let out a satisfied moan as he pulled out and rolled onto his side. As Julie turned on her own side to face him, the grin on her face washed away.

            "Don't say it," she warned.

            "Like a lioness in heat!"

            She smacked him on the arm again.

            "Heh, sorry. Old habits, what can I say?"

            "Yeah, well it could always be worse for you," she pointed out. "You could always _not_ have your lioness in heat."

            Adam's own grin vanished as the grim implication occurred to him. He did not know much, but one thing he knew for sure – he did not want to lose Julie again. Before he could offer an apology she continued.

            "But that's okay…at least I have my lion to take care of me," she declared, drawing a puzzled look from him.

            "Get me a sandwich?"

            He laughed before kissing her forehead.

            "You forget, my dear…it's the _lioness_ who gets the food," he pointed out. "The _lion_ gets to lay in bed and guard the pride."

            She slapped his arm yet again.

            "I see that _somebody_ remembers our biology lessons a little too well."

            "I had an amazing teacher – the world's best in both theoretical and applied," he offered as he ran a hand down her shiny bare arm. "And don't worry about fixing sandwiches…let Jeeves fix _you_ one."

            "That's another thing," she began. "As long as you call him 'Jeeves,' he gets to call _you_ 'Bertie.'

            "Heh, fair enough," he replied. "You seem awfully comfortable calling the shots."

            Julie shrugged before wrapping Adam in an embrace and pulling him in close.

            "I feel right at home — for the first time in a long time."


	12. Reality Strikes Back

           Julie had been sleeping like a baby. Between the pillow top mattress, the Egyptian cotton sheets, and being spooned by Adam's warm body, it seemed like nothing could stir her.

            Then the industrial-themed 'meltdown' alarm started blaring from the iPhone that had been charging on the nightstand.

            She leapt at the sound, prompting Adam to roll onto his back and reach over to retrieve his phone. The drowsy hockey player lazily groped for the alarm for a few long seconds, knocking over a water bottle, a lamp, and a digital clock before finally managing to grasp his phone.

            Julie rolled onto her side and tried in vain to get back to sleep. Before she could tell Adam where he could shove his phone, he switched off the alarm and gently placed a hand on her bare arm.

            "Sorry, Sleeping Beauty," he offered before giving her a peck on the cheek. "I gotta go downstairs and do my workouts, but go back to sleep if you want to. When you're ready, there's clean towels and a robe in the bathroom."

            She raised an eyebrow.

            "Are you saying that I stink?"

            "Absolutely not," he insisted before leaning in close. "Actually, you smell a lot like me."

            The hockey star’s warm breath tickled the inside of Julie’s ear, causing her to shriek and instinctively push Adam away. But the off-duty sergeant forgot her own strength and sent her lover tumbling off the bed and onto the floor, eliciting loud laughs on her part.

            "Oh my God, I'm sorry!"

            The laughs she failed to stifle, however, indicated that she was not terribly concerned as she padded across the bed to see how Adam was doing.

            She felt his strong hand clamp down onto her forearm like a vise before he pulled her to the floor, prompting another shriek followed by more giggles. But his counterattack backfired, and Adam let out a grunt as Julie landed squarely on top of him. Their naked bodies were positioned for a bit of morning delight, had he been able to breathe.

            "Hi," she greeted him with a giggle. "Doin' alright down there?"

            "Never better," he croaked.

            "Oh," she planted her palms onto the floor, transferring her weight off of him. "Sorry."

            "No worries. It was my fault," he offered. "I forgot how dangerous it is to tickle you."

            "Yeah, remember that time during freshman year at BU when you though that it would be cute to tickle my underarms?"

            "How could I forget?” Adam asked, visibly traumatized by the memory. “I was feeling your backhand for the rest of the day. After that, I began to think that you missed your calling as a tennis player."

            "Nah…I was never any good at tennis," Julie dissented. "I always ended up hitting the ball _directly at_ my opponent."

            Adam nodded in agreement as he gently guided Julie off of him and got to his feet.

            "Playing against you definitely took courage," he acknowledged with a teasing grin. "In fact, I’m pretty sure Portman didn’t even talk to you outside of hockey after you drilled him in the face with a ball that one time."

            "Feh. He always was a big baby," Julie scoffed as she stood up. "Anyway, throw on some clothes and get to that gym! This house isn't going to pay for itself!"

            "Yes, ma'am," Adam replied with another kiss on the cheek before changing into gym clothes and taking his leave.

            Despite his best efforts, he was unable to conceal a limp as he walked out of the bedroom, and Julie felt a pang of sympathy. Her old flame had been so attentive, and so generous with his affection the day before. After they had made love, they spent the rest of the day in bed holding each other and picking up right where they had left off fourteen years earlier.

            Adam had made Julie weep with laughter as he shared wild stories about his exploits with his teammates, and when Julie brought the conversation to books, he flattered her with his rapt attention and unconcealed admiration for her intelligence.

            All of this had taken place against the backdrop of a devastating injury that threw his career into question and must have been tremendously painful.

            But he never brought that up. He was more focused on ensuring that Julie felt like a queen, and less on earning sympathy points.

            She knew that he hated to be coddled, but she resolved to do something nice for him once she had showered.

            Upon leaving her dead iPhone on the nightstand to charge, she entered the softly-lit master bathroom with its white painted walls and green marble floor, then scanned her spacious surroundings for a shower stall. With a white towel slung over her forearm, she made her way forward, and discovered an old fashioned bath tub lined-up against the far wall – several feet away from an in-ground Japanese soaking tub.

            Along the wall to her left were the cherry bathroom cabinets capped with marble countertops that matched the floor. The neatly-arranged toiletries on the countertop revealed Adam's old-fashioned grooming habits — complete with a double-edged razor, a shaving brush, a mug of shaving soap, and a tall bottle containing an amber-colored liquid.

            Julie inspected the label on the bottle to discover that it contained bay rum aftershave. Upon opening the bottle and breathing in the spicy ginger scent with its tropical notes, she was unable to stifle a grin. Adam's scents always had a way of driving her crazy, and now she knew one of his secrets. _Bay rum._

            Only by looking up at the large mirror that dominated the wall above the bathroom counters was she able to discover the shower stall.

_Hidden in plain sight._

            She turned and walked into the roomy stall, complete with a seven-piece chrome-finished shower set. As she turned on the warm water, it occurred to her that the six pieces on the shower wall were massaging body jets.

_Hmm…let's see here._

            She turned a knob and purred as the spa system went to work massaging her with warm water.

_My God…how does he ever get anything done?_

            In Julie's world, the shower was the quick, no-frills alternative to the more luxurious bath. But _this_ shower exceeded the comfort of every bathtub, and every hot tub she had ever used. She could only imagine what the Japanese soaking tub was like.

            Recalling that she had intended to do something nice for Adam that morning, she got down to business washing herself, refusing to allow her luxurious surroundings to slow her down.

            As soon as she toweled off and her long, loose hair was reasonably dry, she threw on a white bathrobe and made her way downstairs to the kitchen. Though she had been in the place only a day earlier, it seemed even more vast and confusing as she stood there alone, without the guidance of Gerald.

            She was tempted to fetch the valet, hoping that he could show her around the kitchen, but decided to give him a break. And in any event, she did not know _how_ to fetch him, so she began rummaging through the pantry and various cabinets in blind pursuit of ingredients and cooking implements. It took her a while – a _very_ long while – but she found what she was looking for. Amid all of the racket that she made, Julie could not hear a sweaty Adam creep into the kitchen.

            "Heh, for a second I thought Jeeves went crazy."

            Julie turned with a start.

            "Oh, hey there."

            "Don't worry about cooking," Adam began. "Let me get showered, then I'll microwave a couple of my breakfast steaks. Good source of morning protein, you'll love them."

            "No, I _want_ to cook," she insisted. "I'm going to make your favorite."

            "Aww," he gave her an appreciative kiss on the forehead before turning away.

             "Don't forget the whipped cream!" He added from over his shoulder before heading to the elevator.

            Julie giggled as she rolled her eyes.

            "Just wash up and change into something nice," she called back to him. "No shirt, no shoes, no service!"

            Adam mumbled a reply, but Julie was unable to hear him. She turned around and got to work fixing his Belgian waffles, and discovered where he kept his tea leaves after she had whipped up a batter and left it to heat in the iron. As the kettle boiled, she chopped up a bunch of strawberries before grabbing two plates. Eventually, the waffles were done — complete with strawberries and whipped cream.

            Several minutes later, Adam returned as Julie poured two mugs of Earl Grey. She was unable to hear him, but she could smell the bay rum aftershave, and turned to greet him. Her eyes widened at the sight of a freshly-showered and cleanly-shaven Adam Banks in a full black tuxedo, a white dress shirt with platinum cufflinks, a perfect black bowtie, and black wingtips that shone like diamonds.

            "What?" He asked with a teasing smile. "You said 'change into something nice.' A tux isn't nice enough for you?"

            Julie laughed as she closed the distance between Adam and herself.

            "I meant 'change out of your sweaty, disgusting gym clothes'," she clarified. "But I think you knew that…you just couldn't resist the opportunity to out-dress me."

            "You _know_ that I could never out-dress you," he offered as he placed his hands on her hips and drew her in for a light kiss on the lips. "Besides, I'd do anything for a laugh."

            She could not help but giggle. Adam's personality had more whimsy and boyishness than what first met the eye. And that perfectly-fitting tuxedo reminded her – though she could never forget – that he was every bit as elegant as he was endearing. As her eyes wandered down to his fancy wingtips, she remembered his Achilles.

_Those shoes can't be good for him._

            "Why don't you take those things off," she indicated his shoes. "I'll make an exception to my no-shoes-no-service policy for you."

            "Much obliged," he replied, wasting no time sitting down on a kitchen stool and getting out of his wingtips.

            Eventually, the pair took their seats in the dining alcove of the kitchen and began to chow down.

            "Delicious," he offered after swallowing a mixture of waffle, cream and strawberry. "So you managed to find your way around the kitchen after all."

            "Yeah," Julie replied. "It took me a while though, it’s so vast and confusing. I've never been in a kitchen that had its own punching bag before.”

            He briefly choked on his next bite as he laughed, but managed to wash it down with some tea. Julie continued once it was clear that she would not have to perform the Heimlich maneuver on him.

            "That trainer guy who lived with you must have been really hardcore," she speculated.

            "He was a prick," Adam grumbled. "Thank you for giving him that shiner, by the way."

            "Heh, that was my pleasure."

            Julie thought about elaborating on the circumstances that led to the punch, but decided against it. She did not want to risk Adam storming off to Minnesota in a murderous rage and hunting the trainer down like a wild animal, figuring that Adam would do exactly that if she explained how the man had harassed her.

            "And he didn't order all of those punching bags," Adam clarified. "I kinda went on a punching bag shopping spree after I moved in," he looked down at his plate with a self-conscious expression. "Dad kinda drove me insane…and I didn't want to walk too far to vent my frustration."

            "I bet," Julie agreed as she placed her hand over Adam's in understanding.

            He loved how effortless and complete the understanding between the two of them was. And her simple gesture came as such a sweet relief, he could no't help blurting out how he felt.

            "I love you."

            His sudden declaration caused Julie to jump in her seat.

            "You don't have to respond right now," he offered. "But would you at least think about it?"

            Julie recovered her composure upon seeing Adam's shy, vulnerable smile.

            "I never _stopped_ loving you in the first place," she confessed.

            "Good," he drew her in close, allowing the side of her face to rest against his chest.

            Gerald had walked in to retrieve the plates when he discovered a scantily-clad Julie in a revealing robe leaning against Adam. The flustered valet turned and made a hasty exit to give his master and their guest some privacy.

            "Heh, poor old Jeeves," Adam chortled. "He looked like he was going to jump out of his skin. You know…not to be rude, but maybe you should head back home – if only to get some fresh clothes."

            Julie gasped as she separated from Adam. He had forced to the front of her mind what it had been able to bury for the past twenty four hours: the fact that she had to go face James at some point.

            Letting out a sad sigh, she rose to her feet. She knew what she had to do, but that did not make it any easier.

* * *

 

            "Germaine's playing out of his mind right now," Claude Bernier pointed out to Carl Nardelli who was sitting across his desk in the head coach's office.

            "Rules are rules," the Bruins general manager replied. "And this one is in place for a good reason. We can't have our players date trainers. Think of the dressing room dynamics if the guys see that a trainer is up for grabs…think of how jealous they'll be of each other. It'll be like high school all over again."

            Bernier palmed his forehead and massaged his temples with his thumb and fingertips. The stocky Québécois thought these human resources issues were beneath his pay grade. He was a hockey man through and through.

_So what if Germaine's getting some from the trainer? He's producing._

            "And you have to consider Weller," Nardelli continued. "He took the pictures, he knows. If he starts talking about this with the rest of the team…God only knows how the dressing room will blow up. That's the last thing we need when the playoffs are on the line."

            Bernier looked up at his boss who had risen from his seat and begun pacing. The tall, wiry executive from British Columbia was the opposite of the stocky coach from Quebec in every conceivable physical and personal way.

            If the GM was an irresistible force, his head coach, Claude Bernier, was an immovable object. The clash of personalities had not been conducive to success for the Bruins, and both men were hanging by a thread. Another disappointing season and the pair of them would be out on their ear.

            "Suppose Germaine stops seeing her," Bernier suggested. "What if he gets backed up and loses focus?"

            Nardelli flashed an incredulous look at the inscrutable French-Canadian.

            "You can't be serious," the GM replied.

            "We're at the point in the season where we can't afford to throw away advantages, however small," Bernier pointed out.

            "Then tell him to jerk off," Nardelli sneered. _Idiot._

            Before Bernier could respond, there was a knock at the door.

            "Come in!" The head coach hollered out.

            The door opened to reveal Guy Germaine, who had just changed back into his street clothes.

            "Oh. Hey, Carl," the forward greeted the GM. "You wanted to see me, Coach?"

            "Sit down, Germaine," Bernier instructed, indicating the chair by his desk.

            "So, what's up?" Guy asked as he took his seat.

            "We know about you and Alyssa," Nardelli announced.

            Startled, Guy jumped in his seat. There was no way he could deny it now.

            "What are you going to do?" He asked.

            "One of your teammates, I won't say who…knows all about this," Nardelli declared. "We can't keep him quiet forever. Sooner or later, the rest of your teammates will know, and when that happens…we're gonna have to make an example."

            "Tell him what that means," Bernier snapped.

            "It means we're gonna have to let Alyssa go," Nardelli clarified.

            Guy's eyes widened at the GM's bluntness. He knew that what he had been doing with Alyssa violated the non-fraternization policy, but he thought that he and Alyssa had done a good job covering their tracks. And he never in his wildest dreams imagined that the discovery of their affair would lead to immediate termination for Alyssa.

            "Aren't we entitled to a warning before anyone gets fired?"

            "You're entitled to jack and shit," the GM explained. "You both knew the rules. If this gets out…"

            "What, like public?"

            "You wouldn't dare," Nardelli seethed.

            "Well…if you fire a competent, likeable professional… _who just happens to be a woman…_ don't you think the public would have a right to know? After all, you fired her without any kind of warning."

            The GM let out a mirthless laugh.

            "Do you hear yourself?" He demanded. "You're an alternate captain, Germaine. You're supposed to be a leader. Now you're threatening to air our dirty laundry in public?"

            "I'm not _threatening,"_ Guy declared. "I'm _telling_ you that as a fact. I'll break it off with Alyssa, and I apologize for breaking the rules. But treat her unfairly and the world is going to hear about it."

            "Heh, I guess you really _don't_ want that contract extension," Nardelli shot back.

            "I guess not."

            The GM let out a resigned sigh.

            "Fine, have it your way," he conceded. "I just hope she was worth it."

            "So she stays with the franchise?"

            "As long as you agree to break it off with her…yes," Nardelli clarified. "Once you're a free agent, though, all bets are off."

            Guy nodded as he stood up.

            "I can live with that."

            "Did I say we were done here?" The GM demanded as Guy moved toward the door.

            "No, you didn't."

            Without breathing another word, the forward walked out of the office.

* * *

 

            Julie felt completely drained as she drove to the townhouse that she used to share with Alyssa. She had broken it off with James and the guilt had sucked the life force out of her. The fact that her gentlemanly boyfriend of three years had not thrown a righteous temper tantrum over the shabby treatment he had received made Julie hate herself even more for what she had done.

            Had James shouted obscenities at her while smashing the dinner plates, leaving him would have felt a lot easier. Instead, he respectfully accepted her decision and declined to press her for an explanation. It almost seemed like he had expected her to go at some point, and he was grateful that the ride had lasted as long as it had.

            No explanation required.

            If Julie had been like most people, she would have felt like she had gotten off easy. But her guilty conscience made an apparently painless break unbearable to her. She felt that she had deserved worse than what she had gotten, and was prepared to do penance by denying herself happiness.

            And that included denying herself a life with Adam.

            The freezing rain that beat down against her Ford Edge suited her bleak mood. Eventually, she pulled into the small parking lot behind the townhouse and jogged up to the backdoor that led into the mudroom. After unlocking the door, she returned to her car to retrieve two rolling suitcases and a large duffel bag, containing most of her non-book possessions; the library she had left at James' apartment would have to wait another day – if ever.

            As she fetched her belongings from the car, she noticed that Alyssa's black Mazda CX-9 had pulled up. The normally-upbeat trainer had a dour look on her face as she stepped out of the SUV.

            "Hey, 'Lyss."

            Upon hearing Julie's voice, the tall brunette willed herself to a more pleasant expression.

            "Hey, Julie," she replied, looking over at her friend's luggage. "Here, let me help," she offered, grabbing a suitcase.

            "Thank you. And before you ask – yes, I've left James."

            "Aw, I'm sorry to hear that."

            Julie flashed her friend a puzzled look.

            "I thought you hated him."

            "I never _hated_ him," the trainer protested. "I just didn't think he was right for you. Besides, breakups always suck."

            "Ain't that the truth," Julie agreed as she opened the door and stepped inside. "What about you? I thought you'd be at Guy's."

            Alyssa let out an unhappy sigh as she placed a suitcase on the floor.

            "He dumped me after practice," she announced. "He was walking out of Coach's office like a zombie and he told me 'it's over'."

            "Wow, I never knew Guy to be so cold," Julie replied.

            "Yeah, well I'm pretty sure the bigwigs found out about us," Alyssa speculated. "And Guy was probably told to end it."

            Julie nodded in understanding.

            "Anything else in the car?" Alyssa asked.

            "Just a duffel bag, I got it."

            The off-duty sergeant made the short trip to her car, slung the duffel over her shoulder, and then returned to grab one of her suitcases. Eventually, she climbed up the stairs behind Alyssa and deposited her bags in her old bedroom. Julie was relieved that Alyssa had yet to find a new roommate, as she had nowhere else to go. The hotels in the city were booked solid through the holidays, and there was no way she would allow herself to shack up with Adam.

            "I don't know about you, but I need a drink," Alyssa announced. "Screw wine, I'm going straight to bourbon. You?"

            "I better not," Julie replied. "I'll be on duty in a little while."

            "Alright then," the trainer gave Julie a nod. "I'll be downstairs."

            Julie turned and began to unpack when she heard her phone go off. She groaned as she inspected the screen: ‘Adam wants to Facetime.’

            She hit the red button and resumed her unpacking. When she was woken by Adam's alarm that morning, she could not have thought of anywhere she would rather be. There she was, in bed with the man of her dreams in an incredible house just outside the city she adored.

            But a few heartbreaking hours made a world of difference.

            She did not want to hear from him again. She did not want to be reminded of what she had done, and how it led her to leave James and his children.

            Back in Lincoln, a casually-dressed Adam had returned home from practice and wondered when he could send Gerald to fetch Julie. He felt somewhat bad about telling her to go home and get fresh clothes, but he did not believe that he had been especially tactless. The ringing on his phone stopped and he looked at the screen.

_Facetime cancelled._

            He tried to be cool about it, but having lost Julie before, he had a bad feeling that she was pulling away from him.

 _I probably caught her at a bad time,_ he tried to tell himself. He decided to send her a text.

_Hey, just wanted to see if you wanted to hang out again. I can text you the directions, or I can send Gerald to pick you up. Let me know when you get a chance._

            At her West End townhouse, Julie saw the text and deleted it at once. She then proceeded to block Adam's number.

            As she returned to her bags, she thanked her lucky stars that she was about to return to duty. Her job had lost its fascination and charm for her long ago, but it provided the opportunity to put her mind on something other than her love life.


	13. A 415

           Julie strolled into her precinct's squad room on the afternoon of January 4th. With the year 2014 having ended in personal shame and romantic disaster, the sergeant had resolved to devote the new year to her career. She had rung in 2015 by being on patrol throughout New Year's weekend, having apprehended over a dozen drunk drivers and helping to process and clear a nasty traffic accident in the Central Artery. The only 'personal indulgence' she had given herself during the last few days was a phone call to her father in Bangor.

            Still, as she took a seat at her desk and fired up her computer, she could not help thinking about Adam.

            The hockey player had declared her love for her, so he must have been devastated by Julie's ghosting. But Julie was determined to deny Adam to herself. She hated herself for what she had done to James, and her guilty conscience convinced her that she was undeserving of the perfect life with the perfect man.

            But as her computer monitor came to life and she keyed in her user ID and password, her thoughts turned to the personal database that was just one click away. She had deleted the contact information that she had collected from Adam, but all of that was easily accessible through the database. It contained enough private information to earn the envy (and possibly large sums of money) from any social networking executive…and it was all there for her viewing pleasure.

_No way, Gaffney. You're not going to stalk your ex-boyfriend on the taxpayers' dime._

            Instead, she clicked on the bulletin and printed out a list of individuals and vehicles to be on the lookout for. As she began committing the names and license plate numbers to memory, her partner, Will Shanahan, came up from behind.

            "Hey, Sahdge. Howahyah?"

            "Fine, Shanahan," she replied without looking up from her papers. "You know, this Altima has been reported stolen on three separate occasions in the last six months."

            The rookie patrolman from South Boston shrugged.

            "I guess they nevuh herrduh lawks."

            "I guess not," Julie agreed. "That or the owner is using unorthodox tactics to negotiate with his insurance company."

            Shanahan laughed at his partner's suggestion.

            "Sahdge, you ah just too cynical."

            Julie responded only with a short nod before arranging the documents in a manila folder and turning off her computer. The suggestion that she was cynical did not seem like a point worth arguing to her. As she got up from her swivel chair, she noticed that her young partner was neatly-dressed in his winter uniform, and his spotless black necktie was perfectly dimpled.

_Adam always ties a perfect dimple._

            "Uh, Sahdge? You ok?"

            Julie snapped out of her brief reverie.

            "Of course," she replied. "Nice tie, Shanahan. I see you got the vomit out of it."

            "Those fahkin' drunks," he scoffed. "Nah, I didn't get the puke outta it. I ended up gettin' a new one awltogethuh.

            "Yes, well, it's very fetching," she offered. "Let's hit the road. I'll do the driving."

            The rookie patrolman nodded before handing Julie her coat. January marked Shanahan's 8th month on the force, and while his puppy-like enthusiasm had diminished, he still exhibited far greater enthusiasm for the work than Julie did. Her 11th anniversary on the force would be in June, and though her passion for duty had waned over the years, her romantic disappointments had given new impetus to her career.

            She had been in 'super cop' mode as of late, the Sergeant Nicolas Angel to Shanahan's PC Danny Butterman, and as she took her seat behind the wheel in her cruiser, Julie looked forward to another night of making order out of chaos. Easing the cruiser out of the precinct and onto the street, she observed a few snowflakes dancing in the winter breeze. Light snow showers were in the forecast, but nothing heavy.

            Had it been blizzard conditions, Julie could expect a night of helping stranded drivers and guarding entry points as roads closed and snowplows got to work. But on a night like this, it could go either way. It could turn out to be a sleepy January night, or it could prove to be a busy one as the criminal element of the city took advantage of the clear conditions to go about their nefarious business.

            "Nawt much happenin', Sahdge," Shanahan observed from the front passenger seat.

            "There's _always_ something, Shanahan," Julie corrected the younger cop. "Either we miss it and it happens anyway, or we notice it and take action."

            The young man from South Boston nodded, though he disagreed with the sentiment. He did not see what there was to miss on deserted streets, but he knew better than to argue with his sergeant. As they rode along Tremont, they approached Northeastern University before stopping at a light. The white Toyota Camry ahead of them had pitch black windows and Julie could hear the beat of the car's stereo cranked to the max.

            "Run the plate on this one into the computer, Shanahan," she commanded the patrolman. "Alpha-Delta-Tango-Too-Niner-Six."

            He did as instructed as the light changed to green and the Camry turned left onto Massachusetts Avenue. Julie followed the car. Apart from the illegally-tinted windows, there was nothing obvious that she could pull the vehicle over for, but black windows always triggered her cop suspicion. She had always hated pulling over vehicles like that – as she couldn't see into them – but the feeling that those drivers had something illegal to hide demanded that she pursue them.

            The patrolman rattled off the name and address to which the car was registered, noting that there were no outstanding warrants and that its registration and inspection were up-to-date.

            Julie twisted her lips in thought as she continued to follow the slow-moving sedan. Whoever the driver was, it was obvious that they were aware of the police cruiser, as they were driving a good 8 miles below the speed limit. She could always pull the driver over and write a ticket for the illegally tinted windows, but that was a chicken-shit offense.

_But black windows hide something…check it out._

            She reached for the switch to the cruiser's lights...but pulled back.

_We'll give this one a break._

            Julie's intuition told her that there was nothing to see in that Camry, and she went with that. But her natural suspicion chastised her for letting a potential wrongdoer off the hook. As she turned onto Southampton Street and the Camry drove away from her, the cruiser's radio came on.

            " _415 in progress 17 Dorset Street,"_ the dispatcher announced. _"Any available unit respond."_

            South Boston was just a little off the beaten path, but they were not unreasonably far from the location. And Julie was eager to redeem herself after letting the suspicious Camry go.

            "We got this one," she informed Shanahan.

            The patrolman nodded before lifting the radio mic to his lips and responding to the call. Julie flicked on the strobe lights and began driving toward the sight of the 415. As cars began peeling off to the side to give way to Julie's Crown Vic, Shanahan spoke up.

            "So…a 415, huh? How 'bout that."

            Julie looked over at her young partner.

            "You don't know what a 415 is, do you?"

            Shanahan looked back with a sheepish smile.

            "A 415 is a disturbance," Julie announced, turning back to face the road. "Basically, it's a loud noise that a neighbor or someone reported. It could be loud music, it could be a fight, it could be anything. So be on alert."

            "Gawt it, Sahdge. Let's do this!"

 _He's just so young, isn't he?_   she thought to herself. But she supposed a bit of puppy-like enthusiasm was preferable to complete indifference. At least this way he would be alert.

            As she drove down Dorset, she noticed that no other patrol car had radioed-in to respond to the call. It would be just her and Shanahan. She did not like the look of the street that was lined with parked cars. It meant little room for back-up or for an ambulance. Leaving as much room in the street as she could, she parked the cruiser in the narrow driveway that separated a pair of duplexes.

            Unlike the houses of the suburbs that were long horizontally, these city houses were long vertically. The fronts were narrow, and the buildings stretched back to similarly-designed houses that were along Bellflower Street. A short, chain-link fence closed off the tiny, empty front yard that stood next to a flight of stairs that led up to the front entrance.

            The pair of cops went up the stairs and waited for nearly a minute after Julie had repeatedly knocked on the door and rang the bell. After radioing in for additional details, they learned that the next door neighbor had called 911, and believed that a couple in the house next to her was fighting.

            For a moment, Julie considered the possibility that it was a crank call, but the dead silence worried her. Even if the call had been illegitimate, the fact that no one had responded at the door was a cause for concern.

            After going round to the back of the house and looking into the kitchen window, she discovered that she had every reason to be concerned.

            A slight young woman with dark hair sat trembling on the floor in the corner of the kitchen with her arms wrapped around her knees, rocking back and forth – several feet away from a man who was lying face down in a pool of blood.

            Julie got out her nightstick and pounded on the door.

            "Boston Police, open up!" She commanded as Shanahan got behind her and drew his Glock.

            There was no response from inside the house. The quivering woman appeared to be in a complete stupor.

            Julie rapped on the door again with her nightstick before turning around.

            "Put that thing away!" She barked at Shanahan, who holstered his gun on command. "And call in for an ambulance, and some back up."

            Shanahan did as instructed, and tempting though it was to wait for back up to arrive, Julie knew that the man who was bleeding on the floor – if he was still alive – did not have time to wait.

            "Break it down," she indicated the door to Shanahan with her nightstick before standing back to give him space.

            The tall patrolman sent his boot into the locked door, causing it to swing open. Once inside, Julie went straight to the bleeding man while Shanahan approached the trembling woman. Unable to find a pulse, she radioed into dispatch before going over to the woman, whose hands were covered in blood.

            Discovering a bloody knife in the sink, Julie ordered her partner to cuff the woman and to stay with her while she took a look around the house to see if anyone else was present. With one hand holding her flashlight, and the other on the butt of her Glock, she swept the dark first floor before making her way up the stairs to the second. The upstairs bathroom, master bedroom, and storage room were all clear. There was just one room – a bedroom – that remained unchecked at the end of the hall.

            Julie tried to turn the knob, only to discover that it was locked. Someone was in there.

            "Boston Police Department!" She announced as she rapped on the door. "Open up!"

            Having to force the door downstairs, Julie was surprised to hear someone from the other side unlock the door and pull it open.

            Seeing a brown-haired boy who looked to be about eight or nine years old, Julie switched gears. Having been called to domestic violence scenes before, she could go from commanding officer on the scene one second to a soft-spoken counselor the next.

            "Hey," she greeted the boy with dark curls gently while squatting down to meet him at eye level.

            He did not say anything, but nodded in reply.

            "My name is Julie," the sergeant introduced herself. "I'm from the Police Department and I'm here to help. What's your name?"

            "Kevin," the boy replied.

            Before Julie could respond, the walkie clipped to her chest went off, alerting her that paramedics and reinforcements had arrived. After directing them to the kitchen through the radio, she focused back on the child.

            "Kevin," she began. "I'd like to ask you some questions, if that's alright."

* * *

 

            Julie returned to her desk at the precinct in the small hours of the morning, having secured the crime scene before handing it over to the Homicide Division. Through her brief interview with Kevin, she learned that they were at his foster home, and his foster parents had often fought with each other before their contentious relationship became lethal. Julie had been able to get Kevin back to the Department of Children and Families before the infamous 'meat wagon' had arrived, but she could tell that the boy had known that something was desperately wrong – despite her efforts to shield him from the horror within the kitchen.

            Shanahan had officially lost his 'homicide virginity,' and threw-up in the driveway before getting back into the cruiser – a fairly common reaction, as Julie recalled her own initiation into that dark world ten years earlier. Just being around a corpse at a funeral was no preparation for such a visceral and soul-jarring experience. The violence of the crime had a way of reaching out and tearing something away from any rookie cop at the scene.

            The ones who did not end up quitting the force right then and there became much steelier as result, as though they lose a piece of their own humanity in the process.

            Julie brooded on this as she fired up her desktop computer.

            Observing Shanahan over by the water cooler, she got up and approached her partner. The rookie already had a very fair complexion to begin with, but his face looked unnaturally white as he tried to get back some of the fluid that he lost at the crime scene. Only a night before, he had been excitingly pressing Julie for details about her role in the pursuit of the Boston Marathon bombers back in 2013.

            Now, policing looked to be the last thing he wanted to talk about.

            "You did good back there, Will," Julie offered as she placed a hand on his shoulder. "Responding to a homicide is never easy, but the first one is always the toughest."

            "Yeah, well, it's gonna be my last one."

            Having been around her share of traumatized rookies, Julie had developed a pretty good feel for which ones would stay and which ones would go. Her intuition told her that Shanahan was here to stay.

            "Well, you shouldn't make a decision like that in an emotional state," she advised. "If you need to take a leave of absence, I'm sure the Captain will understand. Why don't you clock out early? There's not much left to do, I just have to file my report. Go on."

            Shanahan nodded in reply before throwing his empty cup into the trash.

            "You'll be able to drive, right?" Julie asked.

            "Yeah," he confirmed. "I'll be good, Sahdge."

            "Well, have a good morning then," she offered with a slight smile, noting the time.

            "Thanks, you too."

            As Shanahan made his way to the men's locker room to change into his civilian clothes, Julie returned to her desk and began hammering out the incident report for her lieutenant. As the subject of the document moved to Kevin, she felt an emotional pang for the first time during her shift. Always a cool customer, ten years as a cop had made the ice water that ran through her veins even cooler; and there was little that occurred in the line of duty could arouse excitement, sadness, or even anger in her.

            But as she thought about the young boy who had been placed into an unhappy and dangerous situation by the system – and was returning to the custody of that system – something in Julie began to stir. Then she began to think more about the boy himself. With those big, brown, deer-like eyes, soft voice, and small hands, he was innocence personified. And he had no one. Just another little cog in a system that would continue to hum along no matter how many dents and scrapes its individual pieces would absorb.

            Julie gasped slightly as she felt a tear stream down her cheek.

_Get a grip, Gaffney._

            After wiping her cheek with a tissue, she willed her mind back to the report. A torrent of accurate, objective, and willfully unsentimental words poured across her computer screen. An hour later, just as dawn began to break outside, she finished looking over her completed report before sending it off to her lieutenant.

            With the first watch due to begin, she moved to clock out before changing into her civilian clothes. She had been feeling odd since leaving her desk and heading to the locker room; and as she made her way to the parking lot, she continued to feel weighed down by some invisible force. The trauma of the 415 was catching up to her at last, and it was augmented by the mixture of anger and depression that Kevin's situation aroused in her.

            After turning on the ignition and cranking the heat to the max in her Edge, Julie moved to brush off the modest layer of snow that had accumulated on her crossover during her shift. This exertion drained her further, and as she took her seat behind the wheel, she felt like someone was strangling the life out of her.

_Come on, Gaffney. Happy thoughts. Puppies, unicorns, rainbows — all that shit._

            As she moved to turn on her car's stereo, the menu on her console GPS popped up, revealing the most recent addresses that she had entered into the system. At the top of that list was the address to Adam's Lincoln mansion.

            She twisted her lips.

            Convinced that James deserved better than what she could give him, Julie left him. But she was not about to run back into the arms of Adam. That would have made her far too happy, something she felt she had not deserved, given what she had done. And she had taken care to eliminate any contact info she had with Adam, so she would not be tempted.

            But she missed a spot: her GPS.

            The thought of Adam holding her caused the invisible force that had been crushing her to loosen up. She went ahead and clicked on his address, activating her navigation system as she rolled out of the precinct and into the frigid but clear morning.

* * *

 

            Having completed his morning workouts, Adam showered and shaved before making his way down to the kitchen to enjoy his protein-rich breakfast of steak and eggs. The meal, though rich and filling, was far from his favorite, but he knew that he could not eat his way back to strength with Belgian waffles.

            He had not indulged in that since Julie made him breakfast that morning after Boxing Day.

            Recalling that blissful morning and the day before, he shook his head. Another year had arrived. One year closer to retirement. One year closer to a life without purpose. And one more year that seemed destined to be Julie-free.

            As he cut into his steak, he tried to push these thoughts out of his mind, as they had a way of killing his appetite.

            "Mr. Banks?"

            Adam looked up from his plate to see his valet, Gerald, standing next to Julie. His sapphire eyes widened at the sight.

            "Forgive me for disturbing you, sir," the valet continued. "But you have a guest."

            Having walked out of Adam's life so abruptly, Julie was grateful to have Gerald around to announce her presence. It would have been far more difficult for her to approach Adam alone before meekly begging him for forgiveness. For once, having a butler around did not make things feel awkward to her.

            "I see," the hockey player replied. "Have a seat, Julie," he indicated the dining chair directly across the table from him.

            The off-duty sergeant nodded in reply and made her way forward. As she took her seat across from him, Adam spoke up.

            "What would you like to eat?"

            "Oh, nothing for me, but thanks," she replied. "I just got off the night shift. I'll be going to bed soon."

            Adam raised a mischievous eyebrow before dismissing Gerald with a wave of the hand.

            "And you thought you'd just show up and crash here?" He asked. "Rather cheeky of you, I must say."

            But Julie could tell from the look on Adam's face that he meant it lightly, so she played along.

            "I agree," she offered. "That's why I'll be going home after this."

            "Oh," a deflated Adam replied, drawing a smile from Julie.

            "But I suppose if it's not too much trouble…"

            "No, it’s no trouble at all! Please, stay here! I'll have Jeeves prepare a guest room in case you're not comfortable sleeping in my bed."

            Adam's openness and eagerness to please made Julie giggle. She loved how open, earnest and sincere he was. In her line of work, there was no shortage of ugliness and deception. But sitting across from her was the most beautiful man in the world who was completely incapable of keeping his cards close to his chest.

            "Adam?"

            "Yes, Julie?"

            "Don’t ever take up poker."

            "Duly noted."

            She got up from her chair, went around to Adam and sat down on his lap.

            "And one more thing," she began as she rested her head on his chest. "I'm sorry that I freaked out and stopped returning your calls."

            At that moment, Julie could have said anything and Adam would have approved. Having his Cat back in his arms felt too good for him to hold any type of grudge against her.

            "Don't worry about it," he offered before kissing her forehead.

            She let out a happy sigh as he ran his hand up and down her arm. For several minutes, he held her close in silence. The only sound that could be heard was the ticking of one of his many grandfather clocks.

_Heh. Punching bags and clocks, two things no room can be without._

            But as his eyes wandered toward the nearest punching bag, he could not think of an activity he was less interested in doing at the moment. Then again, nothing else mattered to him as his loving gaze returned to Julie, who had fallen asleep in his arms.

_Poor thing, she's totally beat._

            He was tempted to carry her upstairs and tuck her into bed, but he knew better than to aggravate his Achilles and delay his recovery. And he did not have the heart to rouse her from her slumber, so he continued to stroke her arm in the same gentle rhythm without making a sound while his breakfast went cold and untouched.

            Over an hour later, she began to stir, and he gave her forehead another kiss as her eyes began to open.

            "Hey," she greeted him softly.

            "I think it's time for you to go to bed, young lady," he admonished with a gentle smile.

            "Can't I just stay like this?" She pleaded. "It'll only be for a few minutes."

            "Heh, if you say so, sweetheart."

            She settled her face back into his chest and fell sound asleep. He was about to wake her but decided against it.

 _Just a few more minutes,_ he told himself.

            A few more minutes ended up turning into several hours, but neither of them had to worry about the other disappearing as they spent the sleepy winter morning in each other's arms.


	14. Canard à l'Orange

           Julie straightened the shoulder straps on her elegant black dress as she stood before the full length mirror in her West End bedroom. The dress was meant to be just a little bit snug, but the growing bump in her tummy made the garment an even tighter fit than it had previously been. She had learned of her pregnancy – already in its third month – only two days earlier, and given the time frame, she knew that the only man who could be the father was Adam.

            Letting out a worried sigh, she reached for her pewter earrings with peridot studs. She had not informed him, but he was due to pick her up any minute to take her off on a date. The snug black dress was not her first choice, but given the high-end destination that Adam planned on taking her to, she had no alternative.

            After fastening her silver necklace with the heart-shaped peridot gem, she began to make her way out of the bedroom before stopping herself.

_Adam's bracelet._

            Julie had worn the sterling bracelet that Adam had given her for Valentine's Day every time they had seen each other since. She had no doubt that he would notice a bare wrist, and did not want to risk any negative sentiment when she had such important news to deliver to him.

            As she made her way down the spiral staircase of the townhouse that she shared with Alyssa, Julie could hear the sound of a powerful engine outside that was getting closer. It sounded like the kind of motor to be found in a cigarette boat, though the nearby Charles was more popular with kayakers and canoers.

            Looking out the window by her front door, Julie discovered the source of the noise: a red Ferrari 458 Spider. With its top down, Adam was clearly visible in the driver's seat of the Italian sports car. Alyssa had gotten up and joined her by the window to see what the racket was.

            "I hate you," the trainer deadpanned.

            Julie tried not to laugh too hard at her roommate's jealousy, but was unable to stifle a giggle.

            "I'm sure if you ask him nicely, Adam will take you for a ride."

            "Nah, I wouldn't like to impose," Alyssa replied with a slight smile. "Besides, you should go easy on the death traps now that you've got a baby onboard."

            "Heh, don't let his age and boyish looks fool you. Ferrari or not, Adam drives like a little old lady – always has."

            "You're going to tell him, aren't you?" The trainer indicated Julie's stomach with her eyes.

            "Of course I am," Julie insisted, running a hand over her belly. "It's not like he wouldn't notice in this dress, anyway."

            Alyssa flashed a skeptical look as she eyed her roommate.

            "Don't be so sure. I only see the bump because I know to look for it…you look amazing by the way."

            "Thank you. But whether he notices or not, I'm definitely going to tell him."

            Before Alyssa could respond, the doorbell rang. The trainer returned to the living room as Julie moved to open the front door.

            "Adam!" The former goalie greeted her boyfriend with a hug and a peck on the lips.

            "Hey, beautiful," the hockey star took in the sight of Julie in the black dress that revealed just enough to be sexy without being tacky.

            "You look stunning," he offered as they parted.

            "Thanks, you do too," she replied, eyeing his black tuxedo and solid platinum-colored tie that matched his pocket square. "Mr. Bond."

            He laughed slightly before looping his right arm, prompting Julie to link it with her left.

            "Well, the city awaits!" Adam declared before walking Julie out the front door and helping her into his Ferrari parked in the street.

            The hockey player was recovering nicely from his injured Achilles; and after spending January on crutches, and February and March hobbling on a cane, he could walk unaided for reasonable periods without hurting himself. Best of all, he could drive himself again. And the unusually sunny and warm April afternoon created the ideal conditions for his preferred car.

            As much as he loved his Bentley, the thing handled like an aircraft carrier and was better for riding than for driving.

            "In you go," he helped Julie to sink into the passenger seat before going round the front of the car and settling into the driver's seat.

            The car was low to the ground, but the raised edges of the bucket seats created a snug, luxurious feel that made up for it. Julie imagined that Adam had recently wiped the black leather upholstery, as it gave off a clean scent and a shiny veneer.

            As Adam brought the V8 engine to life, Julie to bit on her lower lip. Given her boyfriend's conservative driving habits, she knew that initial roar of the engine was about as thrilling as things would get; but it was just as well, given the car's invisible passenger.

            The hockey player opened the roof of the car with a push of a button, before sliding on a pair of dark polarized sunglasses. Julie slid on a women's pair that she had retrieved from her handbag.

            "I know I've said this before," she began, "but nice car."

            "Heh, thanks…again," he teased before easing it out into traffic.

            "Must be a thrill, gettin' this bad boy all the way up to 30," she teased back.

            "Well, safety really is the ultimate aphrodisiac," he declared. "Besides, prolonged exposure to high speed situations leads to impotence. I read that online, so it's _gotta_ be true."

            Julie laughed nervously as Adam brought up the topic of fertility. She had resolved to break the news to him that day, but did not want to do it at an awkward moment. Then again, she was not sure if that was even possible. She decided to put it off and continued to exchange small talk with him during the short drive to L'Espalier.

            Situated on Boylston, the chic French restaurant offered fine dining in an elegantly modern setting. Given his simple tastes, Julie felt bewildered by Adam's choice as they got out and he rather reluctantly gave his keys to an eager young parking attendant.

            "This is a bit much, isn't it, Adam?"

            The Bruin shrugged.

            I figure my chances of bumping into hockey fans at this place are pretty much nil," he explained. "And if there _are_ any here, they’re probably polite enough to not tell me to drop dead. At least not to my face."

            "Heh, good point," she agreed.

            Over the past three months, the couple had rarely gone out in public, but Julie had always figured that was on account of Adam's injury. She was not used to dating a celebrity figure, nor the limited range it provided in terms of places to go. For a major American city, Boston is on the small side, and the fanaticism of its sports followers had long been the stuff of legend. When an athlete produced, he was a god. But when an athlete rode the bench – and got paid a handsome figure to do so – they were held in the same esteem as raw sewage.

            But the host was impeccably-mannered, and none of the patrons gave Adam evil looks as they were seated upstairs at a table for two nestled in the corner between two large windows that looked out onto the street below. Once seated, Julie took in her surroundings. She had heard all about this fancy restaurant, having lived in Boston for over a decade, but she had never been on the inside of it.

            Though she was a long way from starving on her comfortable salary, L'Espalier was part of a world that existed outside of hers. Even James, her well-to-do lawyer of an ex-boyfriend had never taken her here.

            Her eyes scanned the dining room – one of four – and noticed a large bookshelf in the opposite corner along the oak-paneled walls. She wondered what volumes those shelves housed, but decided that leaving her date, walking through a crowd of patrons and attempting to inspect the books while others tried to dine was as impractical as it was rude.

            Turning back to the small table draped in a white cloth that she was sharing with Adam, Julie's eyes widened as she examined the menu.

            Adam noticed the look in her eyes and chuckled nervously.

            "I don't suppose you could translate for me?" He asked.

            " _You_ were the one who took French back at Eden Hall, if memory serves me."

            "And you took Latin," Adam pointed out. "How'd that work out? It's not like you can use it to speak."

            "It helped me to ace the verbal portion of my SATs," she replied, "and it's not like your French studies did much for you."

            "I guess we'll have to ask the waiter," he figured. "Hopefully he's not the stereotypical snob."

            Right on cue, a tall, dark-haired man in a black tuxedo, matching slacks, and black bowtie approached the table.

            "Ah, bonjour Monsieur, et Madame," he greeted the pair of diners with a polite smile.

            He looked to be about Adam's age, only with darker hair, and less muscle on his tall frame. The dark, impenetrable eyes also stood in contrast to Adam's blues. The hockey player could not understand why, but somehow the waiter felt oddly familiar.

            "Um…hi," Adam replied. "I'm sorry, but we don't speak French."

            "Ah, not at all, sir," the waiter offered in a flat Midwestern accent. "I'm not too fluent either. At least not when food isn't involved," he explained as he filled their empty glasses with ice water.

            Turning to face Adam, his dark eyes widened in surprise before narrowing in examination.

            "Forgive me sir," he offered. "But you look familiar."

 _Oh boy, he recognizes me,_ Adam privately dreaded that he had encountered a Bruins fan.

            "You're not…Adam Banks, are you?"

            "Yes…” the hockey player reluctantly confessed. Adam was incapable of deception and envied the ability of others to fib their way out of tricky situations.

            "Oh my God!" The waiter enthused. "This is unreal! I'm Paul Larson, do you remember me?"

            Now it was Adam's turn to look shocked.

            "Larson, yes! How could I ever forget?"

            A puzzled Julie had observed the exchange and gave a slight grunt, as if to say, _hey, what about me?_

            "Oh, Julie," Adam began. "This is one of my old Hawks teammates, Paul Larson. Paul, this is my girlfriend and a fellow Duck, Julie Gaffney."

            "A pleasure," Larson offered as he extended his hand, which Julie shook.

            "Likewise."

            "I guess this makes sense," Adam declared. "I remember that your family moved to Boston years ago. That's cool that you're still around."

            "Oh yes," Larson affirmed. "And Jake moved out here once he finished culinary school. He's actually working in the kitchen right now."

            "Ah."

            "I know," Larson acknowledged. "What Jake did to you at the championship game was inexcusable. But he really feels terrible about it. You'd be surprised how often he brings it up even now."

            "Well, water under a bridge, I suppose," Adam offered. "So you two…"

            Larson smiled broadly. Adam had been the only Hawk to whom he had confided his secret.

            "Yes. We're actually getting married this June."

            "Hey, that's terrific! Congratulations!" Adam enthused. "I'm glad he reciprocated...anyway, changing gears here…"

            "Ah yes, to business," Larson replied with a grin.

            "Do you have any recommendations?" Adam asked. "We can't make heads or tails of this menu."

            Larson's grin grew even wider as he sensed an opportunity for mischief.

            "Well," he began. "Jake makes a _canard à l'orange_ that is exquisite."

            "Great," Adam replied as he handed Larson his menu. "I'll have that."

            " _Et madame?"_

            "Uh, I'll have what he's having, I guess."

            " _Magnifique!"_ Larson enthused as he took Julie's menu. "And would either of you be interested in our beautiful cheese plate while you wait for the entrée?"

            "Sure thing," Adam agreed.

            " _Très bien!_ The sommelier will be over in a minute."

            And with that, Larson turned and made his way to deliver their order to the kitchen.

            "He seems like a nice guy," Julie offered.

            Adam nodded in reply.

            "Yeah, he was the first one who came out to see how I was doing after McGill sent me into the goalpost. Larson even made it out there before any of the Ducks," he looked down at the table before continuing. "I really should have kept in touch with him…and with a lot of other people."

            "Life happens," Julie declared as she reached across the table and took his hands. "You shouldn't beat yourself up over lost contacts. We've all been busy."

            "I guess," Adam replied, breaking contact. "But how difficult is it to fire off one lousy email?"

            Before Julie could respond, a comely brunette in her early 30s approached their table.

            "Ah, good afternoon," she greeted the pair with a smile. "I'm the sommelier. Paul tells me that you ordered _canard à l'orange._ Excellent choice! I have a few wine recommendations, unless you've got your own ideas."

            "Uh…I better not," Julie replied. "But thank you."

            Adam gave Julie a bemused look as she looked down at the table in a self-conscious manner. Deciding that it was no fun to drink alone, he politely informed the sommelier that they would be sticking with ice water.

            "Hey," he called out softly, taking Julie's hands. "What's wrong?"

            Julie knew that Adam needed to know the truth, but had fretted about how to deliver it. She felt that she could not continue avoiding the subject, as Adam's voice betrayed real concern. He would not believe her if she simply told him that she was in no mood for wine, that she was sure of.

            "Oh boy," she began. "There's no easy way to say this, so I'll be direct: I'm pregnant."

            Adam's eyes widened a country mile as he absorbed the news.

            "I found out two days ago," Julie continued. "I'm three months along."

            His eyes had remained wide open, but the news had sent him into such a shock that he was not actually seeing anything. Time and space ceased to exist as he fell out of consciousness.

            A nervous Julie watched as Adam wandered off to the void, and she gripped his hands fiercely, hoping to jolt him back into coherency. But it was to no avail.

            "Adam?"

            Perfect, Zen-like silence.

            Julie reached into her handbag and retrieved a plastic tube that contained smelling salts. Reaching across the table, she ran the ammonium under his nose, drawing him out of his stupor.

            "Oh, Mr. Tibbles," she teased, recalling Team USA's old sponsor who had to be roused back to consciousness after taking a Fulton Reed slap-shot to the head.

            "Huh?" Adam shook his face. "Oh, hey Julie."

            "Well, at least you remember my name," she replied. "That's a good sign."

_Shall we try again?_

            "Adam," Julie began as she took his hands. "I'm three months pregnant. You're going to be a father in October."

            As she spoke those words, it occurred to her that she was due around the start of hockey season. Adam's mind would be completely focused on his career. As Julie’s mind wandered down to her belly, she felt her heart begin to break. It seemed that their break-up fourteen years earlier would not be the last time that Adam allowed hockey to rule his life.

            But to her astonishment, Adam's eyes took on a misty sheen as he strengthened his grip on her hands.

            "That's wonderful," he offered in a voice just above a whisper, having recovered from the shock. "Boy or girl?"

            "It's too soon to tell," Julie explained. "But I kinda want it to be a surprise, anyway."

            "We're going to be a little family," he declared as a tear fell down his cheek.

            Julie wanted to go over and give him a hug, but was prevented by the arrival of the cheese plate.

            "No need to be sad, Adam," the waiter teased, unaware of the news. "This stuff is really good, honestly."

            "Heh, I'm sure it is," the hockey player agreed as he looked at the plethora of cheeses, sauces, and bread slices arranged before him on a platter.

            "Geez, Larson," Adam continued. "Do you have a map for this stuff – you know, like in a box of chocolates?"

            The former Hawk laughed at Adam's reaction. Larson had figured that his wealthy childhood friend would have known his way around the finer things in life, but the Bruin evidently had a limited palate.

_I bet he's one of those rich guys who eats at McDonald's._

            "Sorry, no map, I'm afraid," Larson offered. "But I'm happy to run down the selection for you."

            The fancy names of different cheeses and sauces went in one of Adam's ears and out the other as Larson guided the pair of diners around the platter. Julie had been paying close attention and seemed really interested in what the old Hawk defenseman had to teach them. Adam caught the word 'honey' and grabbed a tub of the sweet, amber-colored substance as if to say 'mine!'

            "The fig bread goes really well with that," Larson informed Adam, indicating the thick, fluffy squares of sweet bread.

            Adam nodded before grabbing a slice.

            "Anyway, _bon appétit!_ Your entrée will be ready shortly," Larson announced before disappearing again.

            "Oh my God, that's good!" Adam exclaimed as he bit into his honey-drenched fig bread.

            "Glad you like it!" Julie replied as she began experimenting with different combinations.

            Carbs had always been a guilty pleasure of hers, but now that she was eating for two, she felt justified in chowing down. All the exotic sauces brought the sliced baguette to life in a different way to Julie, but she preferred the basic olive oil-based dip that included basil and parmesan.

            In keeping with his simple tastes, Adam decided that the Minnesota cheese curd he had grown up with was superior to any of the fancy fromages laid out before him.

            "You know, I was just thinking," he began as he pushed his plate away. "If we keep this up, our baby will only want French food."

            "You say that like it's a bad thing," Julie teased.

            "I'm just saying that we're going to have to balance your diet. Make sure you get plenty of hotdogs, burgers, cheese curd and apple pie. Our child needs _some_ American tastes."

            "What? You think he or she is going to come out of me singing _La Marseillaise_ if I keep this up?"

            Adam choked on his water as his mind conjured up the image of a newborn singing the French National Anthem.

            "That would definitely be one for the books," he chortled. "But as long as they followed it up with _The_ _Star Spangled Banner_ , it's all good."

            Having filled up on bread and cheese, Julie's stomach turned as Larson brought over what looked like a 5-pound roasted chicken slathered in barbecue sauce. She looked across the table to Adam as Larson set the serving platter down.

            "All you, Champ," she declared. "I'm just about full."

            "Not even a little piece, Madame?" Larson asked. "It's delicious, I promise."

            "I suppose just a little slice."

            Larson nodded as he placed clean plates in front of the diners. The former Hawk refilled their water glasses before inviting them to enjoy the meal and disappearing.

            "My God, this is incredible," Adam declared, savoring a bite as he looked over to Julie. "Okay, I'm good with the French. If it's a boy, we'll name it Napoleon. If it's a girl, Josephine."

            "This _is_ good," Julie agreed. "I wonder what it could be."

            The pair of diners were unaware of Larson's eavesdropping from a distance. The former Hawk flashed a wicked grin across his face in anticipation.

            "I'll look it up," Adam offered, retrieving his phone.

            As the Bruin brought up a French-English translator, Larson began making his way over to the table. He wanted to get a good view of Adam's face once the news broke.

            The former defenseman stifled a laugh at the horrified look on Adam's face, but was beyond amused on the inside.

            "Everything alright, Monsieur?" He asked.

            "I just ate duck meat," a stunned Adam announced. "And I _liked_ it."

* * *

 

            To help Adam recover from the shock of his apparent 'cannibalism,' Julie graciously offered to do the driving. She did not need to take the Turnpike to reach their destination, but she decided that all of that horsepower was wasted on the narrow streets of Boston and opted for a highway-related detour.

            The Ferrari roared as Julie took it up to 65 miles-per-hour and got on the highway, prompting Adam to nervously clutch the sides of his seat.

            "Relax," Julie advised over the roar of the wind and the engine. "You'll live longer."

            She obeyed the speed limit, and even allowed several cars to pass her. The presence of all these faster vehicles caused Julie to instinctively reach for the switch to her cruiser's strobe lights, only to end up changing the station on the satellite radio.

            "I was thinking," she called out after several minutes of highway driving. "Why don't we head back into town and hit up the Common?"

            "That means you'll have to slow down," Adam pointed out. "I'm all for it!"

            Julie rolled her eyes beneath her chic sunglasses, observing that she was driving 62 miles-per-hour and was not the fastest driver on the road by a longshot. She had no idea how her boyfriend had no problem flying around unprotected on the ice while fully-grown men crashed into him, but got so nervous inside a car that was traveling below the speed limit.

            But she loved him, quirks and all.

            Eventually, they arrived at Boston Common. Situated on 50 acres in the heart of the city, the former Colonial Era grazing ground boasted the title of America's oldest park. Its famous swan boat ride would not be open for another week, but given that its main purpose was duck-watching, it was just as well that Julie and Adam would not be going on it.

            The restaurant they had visited that day prided itself on _local ingredients_ , after all.

            Leaving his coat and tie in the trunk, Adam undid the top button of his dress shirt and grasped Julie's hand as they made their way into the park on an unseasonably mild and sunny April afternoon. Now aware of Julie's pregnancy, the little bump that had been obscured by the darkness of her dress had become plainly visible to Adam.

            "We better not walk too far," he advised.

            "Don't worry," she replied. "I won't strain myself. Neither should you, given your recovery."

            Adam nodded as they continued to walk and talk about the lovely weather. The leaves of the trees had a yellowish tint that reflected their recent blossoming, and were a welcome sight after the long New England winter. Off in the distance, the gold domes of Statehouse shone in the sunlight as the pair of former Ducks approached one of Adio Biccari's famous bronze statues.

            Built in 1961, each of Biccari's park statues was a tribute to Boston's cultural contributions to American life: learning, industry, and religion. And like New York's Statue of Liberty, these bronze statues had all oxidized and taken on a turquoise shade. As Julie and Adam got closer to the 'Learning' statue, the hockey player chuckled.

            "What's so funny?" A puzzled Julie asked.

            "I never noticed how much attention this statue draws to the crotch," Adam announced, drawing laughter from Julie in return.

            "Wow, it really does, doesn't it?" She agreed, taking in the sight of the statue.

            The young man was reading a book held open by one hand, while his free hand hovered just above his groin.

            As her eyes wandered over to one of the other statues, Julie laughed out loud.

            "Get a load of 'Industry,' " she stated.

            "Now this is positively _disgusting,_ " Adam declared with a laugh, observing the man's power chisel going into a slab of rock…just beneath the figure's groin.

            "But 'Religion' is looking pretty chaste," he observed, prompting Julie to nod.

            "I guess we'll have to keep the baby away from these parts," she mused.

            Adam released his grasp and walked ahead to face Julie. Hunching down, he brought his face to her stomach.

            "You hear that, Kiddo?" He called out to the baby. "Nothing to see here!"

            "I think you better cover its eyes," Julie suggested with a playful grin.

            "Good idea."

            With one hand on her hip, he ran the other up and down Julie's stomach before settling on the small bump. The thought of having his hand over his child filled him with warmth, and as his gaze wandered up to Julie's face, he felt his eyes moisten again.

            "I love you," he declared as he stood up, wrapping his arms around her waist and bringing her in close.

            "I love you too," she beamed.

            As their lips connected, they were oblivious to the spring rain that came out of nowhere and began to soak them while they deepened the kiss. After separating for air, Julie ran her fingers through Adam's damp mane and brought him back in for more, causing him to moan as her greedy tongue betrayed her passion.

            They parted once more, this time completely drenched. With the rain making Julie's black dress cling even more tightly to her figure, Adam knew that he had to have her.

            "We better head back," he suggested amid the rainfall. "My place, or yours?"

            "Definitely yours," she declared.


	15. Regime Change

           It was do or die.

            With just a minute and forty-five seconds remaining in the Bruins' regular season, Guy knew that he had to get something going as he lined up for the faceoff against the Carolina Hurricanes. The Bruins were trailing the visiting 'Canes' 3-2, and could just make it into the playoffs if they secured a come-from-behind victory against their red and white visitors.

            But if Carolina held on, Boston would find itself out of the postseason and in total chaos as new management turned the roster upside down before sending each of the men in black their separate ways.

            Guy Germaine lined up against Jay Wentorth to take the faceoff, aware that his future in Boston was nonexistent but hopeful that a strong performance at the season's close would make him an attractive free agent.

            The puck dropped and Guy won possession, battling with Wentworth to maintain control of the puck before sailing it ahead to his Slovakian linemate Branislav Halusic. But the pass proved too hot for the rookie to handle, and a Canes defenseman retrieved the puck before feeding it to a forward.

            The Carolina forward drew a double-team as soon as he entered Boston's zone, leaving Wentworth wide open by the Bruin net. But Guy anticipated the pass and showed off his athleticism by doubling back and intercepting the puck, denying his opposite a golden scoring opportunity.

            Bruins fans roared their approval of the 33-year old's efforts as he took off unopposed on a fast-break. Bearing down on the Carolina goal, Guy deked twice before firing a shot that the Canes goalie caught. As quickly as the adulation came, it vanished in a chorus of boos from the fickle crowd at TD Garden.

            But such was the life of a hockey player, and Guy shrugged off the fans' reproach as he lined up for another faceoff. Halusic took it this time, and won possession, prompting a furious series of passes between the Bruins as they tried to get in a strong position in front of the net.

            The Carolina defense held, however, and brought the puck back into Boston's zone, eliciting more groans from the home crowd as the clock wound down and their playoff hopes grew increasingly remote. With their season hanging in the balance, Jean Ladoucuer, the Franco-Swiss rookie defenseman, won back possession and took the puck into the Canes' zone.

            Once the Bruins were safely in Carolina's zone, Claude Bernier ordered his goalie out of the net and added a sixth man to the ice, hoping that the extra skater could help secure a goal that would send the game into overtime.

            Players from both teams hacked furiously, their desperation palpable as the clock ticked down to ten seconds. Alexej Viiatenen, the Finnish-born Bruins forward got off a shot that the Carolina goalie covered up, prompting a faceoff with just five seconds remaining in regulation.

            As Guy lined up to take the faceoff, he knew that he did not have time for anything fancy, and he could not rely on his younger linemates in this critical moment. The fate of his team rested entirely on the 13-year veteran's shoulders.

            The blond forward took a deep breath as he squared up against Wenworth. At the drop of the puck, Guy drove his shoulder into his Carolina opposite and secured possession of the puck, making a bee-line for the net. He drew back and faked a shot as the clock ticked down. With the Canes' goalie having bitten on Guy's fake, the Bruin fired at the far, open corner as the final horn sounded.

            As the lights and scoring siren indicated a goal, the home crowd roared in excitement as Guy saved their season. The game was tied at 3-a piece and the Bruins now had the opportunity to secure the win in sudden death overtime.

            But it was not to be.

            While the fanatics in the stands continued to celebrate, the referees reviewed Guy's shot through instant replay and determined that he had gotten his shot off _just after_ the game horn had sounded.

            With the official review completed, the Bruins season ended in heartbreaking fashion. Guy's fateful 'No-Goal' went on to live in Bruins lore, with endless debates between fans over whether or not the refs had gotten the call right, and whether or not Boston could have gotten the goal had Guy taken an immediate shot instead of faking. Guy Germaine – the diligent, soft-spoken role player who craved big star attention – had earned himself a chapter in the long history of America's oldest professional hockey team after all.

            Though he would have preferred it to have been a happier one.

            Up in the owner's suite, Adam recognized the tense silence in the room as the calm before the storm. Looking around him, the star hockey player – who had come to support his teammates – observed miserable, deflated looks all around. Apart from the owner, and possibly Adam himself, all of the men in that room were effectively out of a job. As his eyes continued to wander around the room, he felt Julie grip his hand.

            "Hey," she greeted him softly.

            The pair had been sitting next to each other on a black leather sofa behind the suite's plate glass window. Various Bruin executives, their wives, and one or two guests were standing and sitting throughout the large room.

            "Um…I'm sorry you lost," Julie offered.

            "Me too," Adam deadpanned.

            The off-duty sergeant twisted her lips in frustration. She knew that there was nothing she could say to make him feel better, so she released her grip and leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder. After briefly pushing her up, he allowed her head to come to rest on his chest after he wrapped an arm around her.

            Consoling voices around the room eventually spoke up, reassuring each other that all was not lost. But Adam tuned these voices out. He had been recovering nicely, but he was unable to play, and he hated himself for not being out on the ice where he could have lifted his team to victory. Instead, his teammates suffered a defeat, and his old friend Guy looked set to be the 'fall guy.'

            As if reading his thoughts, Julie spoke up.

            "We really should hang out with Guy soon."

            "Yeah," Adam agreed. "He needs to know that people still have his back. I better head down to the locker room."

            Julie nodded as she sat up to allow Adam to get up and go. Given the likelihood that most of his teammates would be in another city – and possibly another country – by this time next year, Adam wanted to be with them during this disappointing moment.

            "I'll call Gerald and have him drive you back to your place," he offered.

            "No, that's ok," Julie replied. "I'll wait up here. And I'm _definitely_ going home with you," she added with a smile.

            Adam returned the smile before giving her a parting kiss on the lips. He supposed that he would not be going out to drown his sorrows with a bunch of his teammates, now that he had Julie waiting for him. The post-game bender had always been the only enjoyable part about losing, but as he stopped at the door and looked back at the beautiful woman who was carrying his child, he realized that there were better ways of overcoming disappointment.

            He turned and went out into the private hallway that led to the various suites and walked down to a restricted staircase that led to the team's locker room. As he approached the closed double doors leading into the locker room, he could see that a pack of sports reporters had gathered round like vultures. The hockey player grunted, annoyed that the 'restricted' parts of the arena were less restricted than he preferred.

            Sensing the slight disturbance caused by the grunt, the reporters whipped around and discovered the hockey star in a dressy dark blue shirt with white pinstripes, an open collar, and long sleeves along with a pair of designer blue jeans.

            Like locusts, they descended upon him.

            "Adam, Adam!"

            "Over here, Adam!"

            "Adam, do you think Claude Bernier still has a job after tonight?"

            "Adam, hey – did Guy Germaine wait too long to take that shot?"

            "You think you're still gonna be in Boston next season?"

            The hockey player had no choice but to smile politely as the cameras clicked, but did not answer any questions as he pressed forward before security got between him and the reporters.

            "Hey, back awff!" A guard with the face of a bulldog commanded before ushering Adam into the locker room and closing the door behind him.

            As Adam stepped into the brightly-lit locker room with its arena-patterned floor, Bernier had been wrapping up a pep talk. A few other players who had been on the injured reserve soon joined them. Like Adam, they were dressed in street clothes while their active teammates milled around half naked.

            Once the head coach finished his bit, Adam went over to Guy who was standing bare-chested in front of his cubby.

            "Hey, man," Adam greeted his fellow Duck.

            Guy gave him a quick chin nod in response.

            "I saw that replay," Adam continued. "They totally robbed you. You got that shot off in time, and the fans will know that too."

            "Thanks," Guy replied with a faint smile. "Hopefully a few GMs will agree with you."

            "They will," Adam assured him. "So what are you going to do between now and next season?"

            "Train my ass off."

            "Heh, aside from that."

            Guy shrugged. Given the demands of a professional hockey player, he had little time for hobbies.

            "Play video games, I guess."

            "Cool," Adam nodded. "Well, you're welcome at my place any time. I've got all the good stuff. Sonic the Hedgehog, Mortal Kombat, you name it!"

            Guy laughed out loud at Adam's ancient video game collection. For the first time since the no-goal, he did not feel completely horrible.

            "You know," he began, "they've done amazing things with video games over the last 20 years. Maybe I could bring over my PS4?"

            "Sounds awesome," Adam agreed.

            Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Alyssa staring at them before quickly turning away.

            "And I think there's _someone else_ that you should hang out with," Adam indicated the trainer with his head.

            Guy followed Adam's gaze and observed Alyssa in her all-black trainer's uniform folding towels.

            "You shouldn't let team rules get between you two," Adam continued before lowering his voice. "Especially when you consider that there won’t even _be_ much of a team left in the next few weeks."

            The blond forward felt a surge of affection toward the woman he was forced to discard as he watched her continue to work. In the weeks following their break-up, Guy had kept his head down around her, and they had become like strangers to each other. But as he observed her, he missed what they had shared.

            "You're right, Adam," Guy spoke up as he turned back to his friend. "Thanks, man," he added as he extended his fist, which Adam bumped.

            "Any time."

            Guy turned and made for Alyssa while Adam began making the rounds. The star player intended to talk to as many of his teammates as he could. Having been unable to play, he was determined to do what he could to encourage them and raise their spirits.

            "Hey," Guy called out to the trainer, who dropped a towel at the sound of his voice.

            "Oh, hey," she replied softly after turning to face him.

            She instantly regretted the move. There before her, in all of his topless glory stood Guy Germaine. His taut, fair skin gave the appearance of barely holding back his protruding pecs and abs; and his light brown stubble formed an outline of an anticipatory playoff beard. Though the playoff beard would not come to pass, Alyssa definitely liked the stubble.

            "Look," he continued in a low voice. "We need to talk, but we can't do it here. My place, or yours?"

            As the earnest request left his lips, the corner of Guy's mouth tilted in a mischievous smile. He had not intended to sound as flirty as he just did, but having said it, he had to go with it.

            Alyssa returned the flirty grin before replying in a low, sultry voice.

            "Definitely yours."

* * *

 

            Two weeks after the close of the regular season, Adam made his way to the upstairs den of his Lincoln mansion with tall glass of tonic water in hand. Given that he was about to speak with his father cum agent, he had taken care to pour a generous helping of vodka into the collins glass. He took a seat at the oak desk that was situated in the middle of the cherry-paneled office, the shelves of which were loaded with trophies and team photographs rather than books.

            The hockey player did not have to wait long after opening his laptop for his father to log onto Skype. For all of their differences in outlook and temperament, the Banks men were both sticklers for punctuality.

            "Hey, Dad,"

            "Adam," Philip replied with a short nod.

            The younger Banks could tell from his father's glistening forehead and impatient fingers that Philip had been hitting the espresso all day. The old man was more tense than usual, and Adam reasoned that his agent must have had a long day working the phones.

            "So here's the thing," Philip began.

_Ah yes, straight to business. No small talk – nothing about me, or Julie, or the baby._

            "As you already know, the Bruins are cleaning house," the older man announced. "And the new front office wants to deal you."

            "So?" Adam asked with a shrug. "I have a no-trade clause. They can 'want' all they like. Nothing will come out of it."

            "You don't understand," Philip replied. "Given how back-loaded your contract is, the Bruins can afford to release you if you don't consent to a trade. At least if you agree to the trade, you’ll be able to keep most of the money."

            "Back-loaded?" Adam scoffed before taking a sip of vodka tonic. "And who's responsible for that?"

            Philip's steely blue eyes narrowed upon hearing the impertinent question.

            "You know full well why you had to agree to those terms," he declared. "The only way that Boston would accept your precious no-trade clause was if you agreed to take most of your salary later. You _know_ I advised you against that. I told you: take the money upfront, and if they want to trade you, let them trade you."

            Banks the Elder paused to take a sip of neat scotch before continuing.

            "I never understood why a no-trade clause was so vitally important to you."

            Adam felt that his father knew _exactly_ why he wanted veto power over any potential trade, and the hockey player sensed that Philip and the Bruins already had a specific destination in mind.

            "And where exactly does Boston want to dump me?" He asked.

            "The Wild are very keen to have you."

_Of course. Dad wants me back in Minnesota. I knew it._

            "Minnesota is desperate for some star power," the older Banks continued. "They've got a lot of young talent in the farm system, but no one who can put meat in the seats. Boston needs inexpensive young talent to rebuild, Minnesota needs a star to excite the fan base – it's the perfect deal! And the fact that you're a hometown hero is even better!"

            Adam felt his stomach turn as he thought about returning to Philip and Charlotte's backyard. If he could persuade Julie to come along they would never have a moment's peace. Philip had been aghast at the news of Julie's pregnancy, and he openly fretted about lost endorsement opportunities for Adam as the young man’s squeaky-clean image was sure to be tarnished. The younger Banks recalled that unpleasant conversation when he broke the news to his father.

            " _That's just great. One of the reasons why people like you is because you're not like all those other celebrity idiots who go around knocking-up random floozies. Your image is gonna take a big hit, and so will our…I mean your income."_

            "Hello, Adam?"

            "Yes. I'm still here, Dad," the hockey player replied before taking another sip of his drink. "What _other_ options are available? The Bruins don't care if I'm in Minnesota or not, they just want a good deal. So what else is on the table?"

            Philip looked slightly taken aback by his son's questioning. He had always been used to Adam's unquestioning acquiescence to his own will, and had been given complete authority and discretion in working Adam's deals. Apart from insisting on a no-trade clause in his last contract, all the younger Banks ever did was sign on the dotted line after Philip had worked out the details.

            The older Banks had rather been counting on this arrangement to continue.

            "There _are_ no other options," he announced after a brief pause. "It's Minnesota and good money, or free agency and a big haircut."

            Adam's lips twisted as if he had tasted something sour, but he quickly twisted them into an ironic smile, knowing that his father was paying attention to his body language.

            "Well, surely an agent of your caliber can find more options," the hockey player offered. "I'd expect nothing less of you. So why don't we talk again this time tomorrow night – after you've spoken to a few other organizations."

            Philip's eyes widened in surprise. It was not often that he looked like a deer in the headlights, but being directed and instructed by his normally-pliant son was a source of genuine surprise to the older Banks. But he managed a calm reply.

            "Fine."

            "Then we're in agreement," Adam declared. "I'll let you get some sleep. I want you to be in top-form when you speak with those GMs. Good night!"

            "Yes…good night," Philip seethed before signing off.

            Adam closed his computer and got up from the desk. Clutching his drink, he made his way over to one of the in-flush bookshelves that dominated the walls of his den. His eyes were drawn like a pair of magnets to the photograph of Team USA at the Junior Goodwill Games. The 12 and 13-year olds were all decked out in red, white and blue and had broad smiles for the camera.

            That was when he had first met Julie. The childhood crush they shared at the time would evolve over the next twenty years into something much more complicated. But no matter what difficulty arose between them, they always came back to each other – a little more in love than they were the last time.

            Could their relationship overcome another major hurdle?

            He had no idea where destiny would take him. He only hoped that Julie would not take their child and go somewhere else.

* * *

 

            A sleepy Julie made her way upstairs to her West End bedroom after another night out on patrol. Her intuition had been vindicated by her partner; after taking a week's leave in January, Shanahan returned to the force eager to do his duty. His natural enthusiasm, though considerable, had become less ostentatious and his attitude was less puppy-like.

            Julie supposed that her latest rookie was developing a healthy attitude for a cop, though part of her was sad to see another young person lose their childlike innocence.

            But that coarsening of the soul was a necessary adaptation to survive in their world.

            She had filed her papers for maternity leave before heading to the townhouse, and though she had lost innocence at work, it was developing and taking shape inside her; and soon she could dedicate her attention exclusively to preparing for motherhood.

            After throwing on a long white Terriers T-shirt over her bare legs, she moved to charge her phone when its email alert went off. Hitting the icon, she discovered the source: Pat Gaffney. Her father, an habitually early riser, was beginning his day just as Julie was ending hers and had sent her another message.

            These notes had become more frequent since she had informed him of her pregnancy.

_Hey, honey._

            Julie rolled her eyes at the greeting before she continued reading.

_I hope all is well. I'll give you a call later, after you've had a chance to get some sleep. But I wanted to let you know that my good buddy Marv has decided that he's going  to retire after the next school year. His position at the community college won't be open right away, obviously…but I wanted to give you a head's up, that way you'd have time to prepare a CV and what not._

_I really think you should look into teaching. You've got a knack for it, and what  college wouldn't want to hire a criminal justice instructor who has been a cop for over 10 years? Plus you won't be in any danger, and…you know. You could be back home in Bangor ;)_

_It's still a while before you have to make a decision, but please think about it._

_I'll talk to you soon!_

_Love,_

_Dad._

_PS: I have included some links to the school. Check them out!_

            Julie smiled softly as she finished reading her father's message. Pat had spent most of the past ten years trying in vain to convince his daughter to find a safer line of work – usually closer to home. So Julie was not surprised by this latest  bit of fatherly advice, even if the position he was advertising would not be open for quite some time.

            Still, as she plugged her phone into the charger, she did not dismiss the possibility of returning to Bangor to teach out of hand. It actually sounded kind of nice to her. But it was still a way's down the road, and she was not at all sure how that opportunity could mesh with Adam's plans for the future.

            But then, she did not really _know_ what Adam's plans were, as his own future appeared to be in total flux.

            Checking the time, she realized that Adam would be doing his morning workouts. She decided against disturbing him, and checked out the links that her father had sent her while laying awake in bed. Looking at the photographs of Eastern Maine Community College, Julie felt a pang of homesickness that surprised her.

            As much as she loved her father, brother, and sister, Julie never felt homesick when she wrote or spoke to them. But seeing all of those trees made her long for the Pine Tree State. The pictures conjured up images in her mind of her childhood home on the Penobscot – a large, but somehow cozy house nestled between an emerald forest on one side and a deep sapphire river on the other.

            Unable to sleep, she began reading about the college, then spent the next hour reading her hometown's local news. She began to wonder if her nostalgia was the product of restlessness or her pregnancy before checking the time again. Adam would probably have completed his workouts, so she moved to her contacts list and hit the phone icon once she reached his name.

            "Hey, Julie," he greeted her on the other end. "Everything alright? I figured you'd be in bed by now."

            "Yeah, I'm okay…sort of," she replied. "Nothing's wrong. I'm just a little restless. Any news from Philip?"

            "Heh, he insists that the Wild are the only team willing to deal. So it looks like I'm going to have to try my luck in free agency. Whatever happens, I am _not_ going to Minnesota."

            Julie winced as Adam discussed his future in places unknown.

            Though unable to see her, he could sense her discomfort.

            "Don't worry, hon," he offered. "It'll all work out."

            "If you say so," she replied. "So when will all of this be settled?"

            "Soon. No later than the end of June. Probably sooner, actually. These things move very quickly."

            Julie's lack of sleep had caught up with her, and she let out a loud yawn, prompting Adam to laugh.

            "You better hit the hay…and I better hit the shower," he suggested. "But give our baby a pat from me. Love ya."

            "Love ya too," she replied before hanging up.

            She rubbed her belly, as instructed, but her hand lingered over the bump.

            "I don't know how, but it's all gonna work out," she declared softly, rubbing her hand over her stomach before going to sleep.


	16. Independence Day

           "Good, Mrs. B," Keith Vandenberg offered as Charlotte Banks slapped around tennis balls with considerable skill.

            The trainer fed balls into a machine on the Banks family's private tennis court, and was impressed that a woman Charlotte's age could still be so nimble and quick. Then again, he knew from experience that his employer – who never looked a day over 40 – was an exceptional athlete.

            Indeed, her stamina, strength, and skills transcended tennis.

            He stopped feeding balls as soon as Charlotte gave him the signal.

            "Thanks," she called out. "I don't know though. My follow through feels kinda sloppy. Could you help me?"

            "Gladly," Vandenberg agreed, his growing enthusiasm evident below the waist.

            As the tall, athletic former Marine made his way over, Charlotte's thick lips formed a seductive grin.

            Up in his private study, Philip glowered as he looked out the window and observed Vandenberg draw his wife in close and guide her swing. She was pressed up against the trainer, and the platinum-haired man kept whispering into Charlotte's ear as she continued practicing her form. Even from a distance, Philip could tell that the younger man was nibbling his wife's ear, and she made no attempt to separate from him, or get him to stop.

            As the pair abandoned the tennis pretense and began kissing passionately, Philip decided that he had had enough of the early July sunshine, He drew the study curtains shut and switched on the lights before pouring himself a large helping of Laphroaig.

 _It's after noon somewhere,_ he reasoned before taking a swig of the fiery single malt.

            Setting the crystal tumbler down on his desk, he took a seat and tried to get his wife's wandering eye off his mind the way he always had in the past: by immersing himself in his work. He retrieved several documents from a file in a desk drawer related to his only client: Adam Banks.

            Adam had been his father's meal ticket for the past fourteen years, and his son was the means by which Philip made money and earned the envy – if not quite the respect – of his neighbors and associates. But business had slowed down in recent days. Adam had entered free agency and had attracted virtually no interest.

            The only potential suitor, the Minnesota Wild, came forth with an anemic offer. Had Adam accepted the trade, he could have at least kept the $60 million contract he had signed with Boston, which though back-loaded, was a considerable sum.

            But Adam seemed to have a belief in himself that his father did not share, and the younger man was quite keen to wait things out.

            Philip, on the other hand, knew that however puny Minnesota's offer was, it was likely to be the best that they could realistically hope for. The older Banks knew full well that his phone had not been lighting up with offers from teams desperate for an injury-prone 33-year old some 10 years removed from his prime.

_Time to make the little brat see reason._

            The agent grabbed his phone and fired off a text to his son.

            "Adam," Julie moaned as the bare-chested hockey player sucked the pulse point on her neck, holding her close.

            He never thought it possible, but he felt that she had gotten even more beautiful as her baby bump grew; and he found it increasingly difficult to keep his hands to himself whenever she found her way over to his Lincoln mansion – which had become nearly every day.

            Not that it bothered her. Having a fit and athletic figure her entire life, Julie fretted over the possibility of Adam finding her less attractive as her bump expanded. But his hungry tongue and greedy hands betrayed his insatiable desire for her.

            With her backside pressed against the front of his black swim trunks, Julie gasped as Adam's hand found its way inside her navy blue swimsuit. She reached behind his head and pulled him in for a deep kiss as his middle finger formed a hook and began teasing her with soft, tentative strokes. His free hand worked its way up her chest, cupping an ample breast made larger through pregnancy while he continued to work his magic below…slowly picking up the pace and driving her crazy.

            Before she could beg him to go faster, he did just that as their faces parted for air.

            He could feel her pleasure as the long, adept middle digit on his right got moist.

            She pulled his face back in for more kissing as his strokes continued to quicken, prompting him to grasp the back of her head with his free hand while their tongues danced.

            After parting once more for air, she gave his lower lip a love nibble, pulling him back in with her teeth.

            "Keep going," she commanded in a fierce whisper against his lips.

            He kept it up for several minutes, all the while grinding from behind, finally letting up as she climaxed.

            "Your turn," she announced, running a suggestive finger across her bottom lip.

            No sooner had Adam grasped the waistband of his trunks than he heard an alert go off on his phone. Only one type of alert could keep him from receiving his just reward from Julie, and it happened to be the unique 'meltdown' alert that he had assigned to his father.

_Shit._

            "Sorry, hun," the hockey player offered. "I have to take this."

            "No worries, I've already gotten mine," Julie replied with a teasing smile.

            His Bambi-like expression prompted her to laugh and draw him in for an embrace.

            "Take care of business, then I'll see what I can do," she declared before kissing his cheek. "Now, off you go!"

            "Roger!" He replied. "Or is it 10-4? I always found that cop lingo so confusing."

            "Adam, focus!"

            "Oh, right," he nodded, grabbing his phone. "Go on. I'll be down in a few minutes."

            "See you in a few."

            As Julie made her way out of the master bedroom and down to the pool in Adam's backyard, the hockey player examined his phone and discovered a message from his agent. His father's note was characteristically pushy and terse:

_Get on Skype. Now._

            He knew that it was best not to keep him waiting, so he neglected to stop and put on a shirt before heading across the hall into his den. The former Bruin settled in, opened his laptop and signed-on to the video chat application, reaching his father almost instantly.

            "Jesus, Adam," Philip scoffed. "Are you naked?"

            "Huh? Oh, no. I've got trunks on," the younger Banks explained. "I was about to go for a swim when I got your text.”

            The older Banks felt a surge of bitterness as he looked at the screen and saw his strong, virile, and boyishly handsome son. Adam's bronze and chiseled upper body seemed to mock Philip's pasty and flabby one hidden beneath his white dress shirt. And that thick, light brown mane bleached gold in the summer sun stood in stark contrast to Philip's bald head.

            Apart from the sapphire eyes, Adam appeared to have inherited all of his features from his age-defying mother.

_The lucky brat._

            "Uh, Dad?" Adam called out. "What did you need talk about?"

            "I'm sorry, am I _inconveniencing_ you?" Philip seethed.

            Adam resisted the urge to roll his eyes. His father had always been a get-to-the-point kind of guy, though Philip got testy whenever his son had the gall to ask why he called. But the younger Banks had enough experience in the passive aggressive world of the upper class to know that an apology — however insincere — was needed to smooth out this situation and get things moving.

            "I'm sorry, Father," the young man offered. "Please forgive me."

_Now get on with it, you miserable old prick._

            "Not at all, Son," Philip offered with a falsely ingratiating smile. "I've called to discuss your future. I have emailed you your next contract."

            "Umm…ok."

_It isn't my 'next contract' until I sign it, but let's have a look-see._

            Adam grasped his phone, hit the email icon and tapped the unread item from Philip. After opening the PDF file and looking it over, the younger Banks was annoyed by the fact that the offer was only for one year at the league minimum salary, and even more annoyed by the fact that the Minnesota Wild were the ones making it.

            Philip chuckled as he observed his son's scowl.

            "Didn't I tell you?" The older Banks asked. "You should have accepted the trade proposal. Then you could have kept the money."

            "I don't give a flying _fuck_ about the money!"

            Philip's eyes widened at his son's outburst. But the older man regained his composure and calmly stared into his computer's camera, daring Adam to continue. When the younger Banks brooded instead, Philip moved to break the silence.

            "If money isn't that important, then you won't mind signing," he declared. "No sense in holding out for more. You and I both know you aren't going to _get_ more."

            Adam continued to brood in silent fury. He was convinced that other teams were willing to make him offers – not _great_ offers by any stretch – but offers, nonetheless. There was no way that the Minnesota Wild could be his only option. His father simply had not bothered to reach out to other teams. The older Banks was deadest on his son going to Minnesota, and in Adam's eyes that was that.

            "There's still time," Adam announced at last. "I'll wait. And _you_ are going to contact every GM that isn't based in Minnesota and tell them why their franchise needs me. Hell, maybe even Boston will have a change of heart."

            Most agents at this point would gently advise their aging client to simply take whatever he could and not to expect much from anyone.

            But Philip Banks was not like most agents. He saw a spoiled, recalcitrant little brat demanding the impossible. And he was not about to be ordered around by a petulant child _._ Of the many weapons in his arsenal, the older man had been saving his most powerful one for just this occasion.

            "It's Minnesota or retirement," the older Banks deadpanned. "I think even _you_ have the intellectual faculties to make the right choice. But just in case you need any help…check your email."

            Adam raised a suspicious eyebrow.

            "I'm sending along another PDF. It's the agent's contract you signed for me all those years ago. Check out the fine print that I've highlighted for you…the clauses where I have power of attorney and control over all of your assets."

            Adam's eyes widened in shock, but his horror soon gave way to suspicion.

            "There's no way in hell I signed off on that."

            "See for yourself if you don't believe me," Philip replied. "It's in your inbox. Amazing, what you can get such a naive little boy to agree to," he added with a smug grin.

            "But I'm a fair man," the older Banks continued. "I won't exercise my authority if you do the reasonable thing and sign with the Wild."

            Adam bit on his left fist as his right clenched and cracked loudly. He wanted to reach through his screen and strangle the life out of the man who had helped bring him into the world, taught him how to skate, and guided his career.

            But it had all been a self-serving effort for Philip. Adam was his work dog, and if Philip could not get Adam to obey, he would take him out back and shoot him – not literally, of course, but it scarcely made a difference if all of Adam's assets were to be seized.

            "I don't want an agent who threatens to take everything I have," the younger Banks said at last.

            Philip flashed a bemused look at his son.

            "Am I to take it that you wish to dissolve our partnership?"

            "Heh, 'partnership,' is that what you call it?" Adam asked with a bitter laugh. "You're my master and I'm your slave. Some partnership. No, I want an _actual_ partner – not you."

            "If you dissolve our business relationship, you. Will. Lose. Everything," the older Banks stated the last four words in an emphatic, deliberate fashion. "Think long and hard about that."

            "I don't need to think, my mind's made up."

_That spoiled, stupid, little brat._

            "I'll call you at this time tomorrow," Philip announced calmly. "After you have a chance to think things over, and talk with the woman that you're currently sleeping with, maybe you’ll be able to discuss matters more sensibly. Goodbye….oh, and happy Independence Day," he added ironically.

            Before his son could respond, Philip signed off.

            As he got up and retrieved a cigarette from a bowl by the decanter, Philip wondered if he had threatened to use his most devastating weapon too soon. Once that particular arrow was out of the quiver, there was no bringing it back. But he shrugged that thought off, unable to see what else he could have done.

            Taking a long drag, he hoped that Julie could talk sense into his son. Philip despised the woman, whom he saw as a promiscuous gold digger. And he _really_ despised her unborn child. The lawyer-turned-sports agent had been hoping that Julie would 'flush out' the 'little turd,' but now he had finally seen value in his would-be grandchild.

            If impending fatherhood could not get his son to see the importance of money, Philip doubted if anything could.

_The Brat has to feed, clothe, and house that Little Shit, after all — and the Whore who crapped it out, as well._

* * *

 

            "CANNON BALL!" Julie's nephew Tyler exclaimed before jumping into the in-ground pool.

            The 9-year old took care to jump right at the ramp that separated the shallow end from the deep, giving him plenty of room to sink comfortably without going too deep.

            Over by the steps that led into the shallow end, Julie and her sister Debbie shrieked as a wave washed them.

            "Tyler!" The older Gaffney sister reproached her son as he came up for air. "What did I tell you about cannon balls?"

            "That I shouldn't do them," the blond-haired boy confessed with a sheepish grin.

            "And what do you have to say for yourself?" Debbie demanded, her dyed-chestnut colored hair completely soaked.

            "I'm sorry, Mom and Aunt Julie."

            The off-duty sergeant wanted to tell her nephew not to worry about it. She was actually grateful for the cool splash, as it provided welcome relief from the July 4th sun. The afternoon had yet to arrive, but the day was already shaping up to be a scorcher.

            But Julie kept quiet. Being just three months away from motherhood herself, she had begun to appreciate the importance of not contradicting parents in front of their children.

            "Apology accepted," Debbie offered. "Just don't do it again."

            Tyler nodded before climbing onto a noodle as his uncle, Brian, watched him carefully from the deep end – ready to spring into action if his nephew ventured too far beyond the ramp. Away from the pool, a fully-clothed Pat Gaffney lounged in an Adirondack chair next to his son-in-law Jim, and gratefully accepted a virgin banana daiquiri from Gerald before the valet moved to serve mocktails to the rest of the adults.

            Normally, Pat hosted Independence Day gatherings at his house on the Penobscot, but his family had gathered at Adam's mansion in Lincoln for the festivities. He was there with his daughter Debbie and his son, Brian. Debbie's husband, Jim, and their sons, Tyler and Corey had also made the trip from Bangor. The 9 and 7-year old boys had been particularly excited about the journey, as they would get to meet several Boston Bruins later in the day when they were due to come over for a party.

            As Julie took a sip of her fruity iced drink, she wondered why Adam had not come down to the pool by now. It had been over an hour since he was called to his study to take an important call from his father, and she was beginning to worry.

            "I'm just going to run inside for a minute," she informed her sister. "I want to see what Adam's up to."

            "Alrighty," Debbie agreed. "And while you're up, could you get Corey out of the kitchen?"

            "Heh, how do you know he's there?"

            Debbie shrugged.

            "A mother's sixth sense, I guess. But get him out here, will ya?"

            "Will do," Julie nodded as she got to her feet and stepped onto the cool white flagstones.

            After taking care to towel off her feet and legs, she made her way inside and sure enough, discovered her younger nephew in the kitchen with his hand in the cookie jar.

            "There you are!" Julie called out, prompting the brown-haired boy to drop the chewy chocolate chip cookie back into the glass jar.

            "Hi, Aunt Julie," the 7-year old greeted the off-duty sergeant shyly.

            He had no way of knowing it, but the sight of his puffy little hands caused Julie to feel a surge of affection. And his brown deer-like eyes reminded her of another little boy who had stolen her heart.

_Kevin._

            She had never forgotten that poor boy from the scene of the homicide she had been called to six months earlier. Before she went on maternity leave, she followed the orphan's case and had looked into adopting him before her thoughts had become dominated by the child in her womb.

 _Having a big brother around might be a good thing,_ she thought.

            "Aunt Julie?" Corey called his aunt back to the present.

            "Yes, dear?"

            "You're not going to tell Mommy, are you?"

            "Not if you head outside and do some swimming."

            "Thanks," the boy offered with relieved grin. "I'll head outside now."

            The two exchanged friendly nods before going their separate ways. As Julie made her way upstairs, she could hear rhythmic thumping from inside Adam's den. She made her way into the open doorway to discover Adam furiously whaling away on a black punching bag suspended from the ceiling with a chain.

            She could tell right away that his call from Philip had gone badly.

            And judging by the shiny, sweaty veneer that coated Adam's muscular arms and chest, it was obvious that he had been venting his fury for a while.

            "Hey," she called out.

            But her voice was too soft to be heard over the sound of his bare knuckles pummeling the bag.

            She made her way across the hardwood floor of the den, not trying to be stealthy, but her presence in the room was completely unknown to Adam.

            "Adam!"

            At once, he let up on the punching bag and turned to face Julie.

            "Hey….oooof!"

            He had not thought to catch the bag before turning around, so it swung back and whacked him, prompting Julie to chuckle.

            "I'm glad you find me so entertaining," Adam mused bitterly.

            "Sorry, sweetie," Julie offered, extending both hands, which Adam grasped. "But in all honesty, you _are_ entertaining. It's one of the many reasons why I love you," she explained before getting on her tiptoes and giving his lips a light kiss.

            "Heh, thanks."

            "My God, Adam. Your hands are like hams," Julie declared, observing his red hands that had swollen up. "Don't you ever use boxing gloves?"

           "It was a spur-of-the-moment kinda thing," Adam explained. "It usually is. Dad does something unbelievably awful and I have to let it all out. I don't have time for niceties like gloves."

            "Wanna talk about it?" Julie asked, guiding him to an ivory-colored sofa situated just below an in-flush book case that housed several trophies.

            "Not much to talk about," he declared as he took a seat next to her on the sofa. "Dad will only negotiate with the Wild, and unless I sign with them, he's going to take all my money."

            Her eyes widened in shock.

            "Can he really do that?"

            "It's in the contract I signed with him, way back when," he announced with a shrug. "I'm not a lawyer, so I don't know if there's a way around it. But it looks like he's holding all the cards."

            "Heh, _dragon sickness."_

            "I beg your pardon?"

            "Oh, dragon sickness," Julie repeated. "It's from _The Hobbit._ The evil dragon Smaug had limitless greed. He lived alone in a mountain full of stolen gold, and when Bilbo appeared and took just one little golden cup, the dragon went totally ballistic. Your father wanting you to sign that deal with the Wild made me think of Smaug, I guess. No matter how rich he gets, it's never enough."

            "Yep. That's pretty much Dad," Adam agreed. "And now he's threatening to take everything unless I give him back his little golden cup…signed and dated."

            Julie grasped Adam's swollen mitt with both hands.

            "Well, Philip can take _a lot_ , but he can't take _everything,"_ she assured him. "He can never take your will. Only you can give it to him. Do you still want to play hockey?"

            "Heh, is that a trick question?"

            "Then play. Sign with the Wild and accommodate Philip, or fire him and hire an agent who can get you an offer from another team. And if Philip takes away your house, so what? You'll be in another city anyway."

            Adam flashed a surprised look upon hearing Julie's casual attitude toward him continuing his career elsewhere.

            "And you're cool with that?" He asked.

            Julie shrugged.

            "No sense in worrying about crossing that bridge before we get there."

            Adam smiled as he grasped Julie's chin and turned her to face him directly. An hour ago, he felt like his whole world had shattered and all he could do about it was to beat the hell out of a punching bag. But then came Julie, who calmly and intelligently discussed his options with him.

            Having talked things over with her, he felt like there was a way forward. A _difficult_ way, no doubt, but a possible one. And she seemed willing to go along for the ride.

            "And he can't take you either, right?" Adam asked softly.

            "Ha! I'd like to see him try," Julie replied. "I may be pregnant, but I'm still trained to kill if necessary."

            "Heh, I doubt it will be…but it's still good to know," he offered before giving her a deep, appreciative kiss that she eagerly returned.

* * *

 

            Adam's teammates from the past season eventually made their way to his house and were enjoying a fully-catered party in relatively private company. The irony of having the mostly-foreign Bruins roster over for Independence Day had not escaped Adam, but the gathering was going well and all who were invited were enjoying themselves.

            The presence of so many Bruins and soon-to-be former Bruins served as something of a goodbye party, and the hockey players were grateful for the time together – even though the venue offered fewer scantily-dressed single women than they were accustomed to.

            Ice cold champagne and craft beer flowed freely throughout the afternoon, and as the sun began to set ahead of the fireworks show, Jean Ladoucuer made his way over to Adam.

            "Great party, Adam," the Swiss defenseman offered while raising an IPA in a toasting motion.

            "Thank you, Jean," Adam returned the gesture with his own beer. "Congratulations on your extension, by the way. It’s good to know that Boston isn't throwing _all_ of the talent out the window."

            "You're too kind," Ladoucuer replied with a grateful smile. "And what about you? Any promising offers?"

            "Nah," Adam replied with a frown. "Only one. It was a shitty offer, but I’d turn them down even if they offered me all the gold in Fort Knox. I'm actually between agents at the moment."

            "Really?"

            The intrigued defenseman reached into the back pocket of his khaki shorts and retrieved his wallet. After briefly rummaging through the various paper and plastic cards, he found what he was looking for.

            "Here," he extended a business card toward Adam, who took it. "This is my agent. He's based in Geneva, but he handles clients in leagues throughout Europe as well as the NHL."

            Recalling his experience at L'Espalier, Adam felt slightly apprehensive as he looked at the French text printed in blue.

            "Um, thanks. Does he speak English?"

            "Of course."

            "Ah, good," a relieved Adam smiled before pocketing the card.

            "He's especially well-connected with Ligue Magnus in France," Ladoucuer explained. "I'm sure La Ligue would love to have a famous American All-Star who could boost its profile."

            "Thank you," Adam offered again. "I'll give him a call first thing tomorrow morning…which should be in the afternoon for him, right? Waking him up in the middle of the night probably wouldn't be the best start of a business relationship."

            "Yes," Ladoucuer replied with a slight laugh. "Calling him tomorrow morning will work out fine."

            "Well, thanks again. And enjoy the show," Adam offered, noting the darkness of the sky.

            As the Franco-Swiss defenseman moved to join a cluster of his teammates ahead of the firework show, Adam thought about a potential future in France. The NHL had remained his first choice by a wide margin, but should that fall through, the possibility of playing in Europe intrigued him.

            Would Julie be up for it? She had appeared to be open to all possibilities during their conversation in the den earlier that day.

            As Adam ruminated on the possibilities, he was jolted out of his thoughts and into the present as an explosion shook the sky.

            The fireworks had begun. Just as that gutsy group of men assembled in Philadelphia had taken their chances on that day 239 years earlier, Adam was taking a big gamble of his own on the 4th of July. He was cutting ties with Philip and discarding the security of his fortune in exchange for freedom. And like America's Founders, Adam was about to enlist the French as allies.

            Though he had his doubts earlier in the day, the hockey player was now convinced that the gamble was worth it.


	17. The Pursuit of Glory

           Adam threw the last of his personal belongings into the back of Julie's Ford Edge before taking a final look at the place he had called 'home' for the past year. Having played in Tampa, Anaheim, New York, and most recently Boston, he was used to getting up and going. But leaving the mansion in Lincoln felt different from all of his earlier departures.

            In each of his new destinations, he could always look forward to a new team, a new contract, and a blank slate. These moves had been exciting, but essentially risk-free propositions that always involved coming home to a massive house and an equally capacious bank account.

            Now, most everything he owned was in two suitcases, two duffel bags, and a large plastic bin containing memorabilia from various teams and trophies from glories past. His Hendrix hockey stick and the skate case for his trusty pair of Bauer's were separate from the rest of the luggage.

            "That's everything, I guess," he announced before reaching up and closing the hatch.

            "Right," Julie nodded before making her way to the driver's seat.

            "Really, hon," Adam called out. "I don't mind driving."

            Given her pregnancy, he had been keen to see her do as little as possible, and all throughout their packing he had to keep telling her to take it easy. But Julie was an active person by nature, and found it difficult to be still, especially when there was important work to be done.

            Besides – she had to ensure that his bay rum aftershave went with them.

            "It's fine," she insisted. "Besides, I'd like to get home before next Christmas," she added with a teasing smile before opening the door.

            "Heh, suit yourself," he agreed, following her into the crossover on the front passenger's side.

            After Julie cranked up the air conditioning to provide relief from the muggy late afternoon in July, the couple got on the road and left the woody suburb, never to return.

            About fifteen minutes into the drive, as the city came into view, Adam turned down the radio so he could speak.

            "So what do you think of all this?"

            Julie shrugged.

            "It's too bad my family had to go back to Maine early," she declared.

            "Yeah," Adam agreed with an unhappy sigh. "I'm really sorry about that."

            "You did what you had to do."

            "I guess…but that doesn’t answer my question," he replied. "What do you think about all of this? You're allowed to have an opinion, y'know."

            "Well…"

            He braced himself for something he didn't want to hear. Julie had always prefaced her doubts with a contemplative 'well….'

            "I get why you don't want to play for the Wild," she continued. "But what if Philip wasn't just blowing smoke when he said there weren't other offers for you? I mean…no offense, you're still a young guy in the real world. But in the hockey world, you're getting up there. It's possible that teams just aren't lining up for your services the way they used to."

            She briefly looked over at the passenger's seat but quickly turned her gaze back to the road. Adam's sapphire eyes were blazing. She always found them difficult to look at when they were like that.

            But she pressed on. He needed to hear her thoughts, regardless of whether or not he liked them.

            "I'm just saying…it may be time to think about life after hockey."

            Adam did not respond verbally, but allowed his actions to do the talking by reaching over and turning up the volume to the car's stereo system. The song that had been playing, Queen's _Don't Stop Me Now_ felt weirdly appropriate and inappropriate at the same time. Now fully recovered from his injury and surgery, Adam felt better than he had for months, and he was determined to pursue playing opportunities, whether in North America or in Europe.

            But Julie was less appreciative of her boyfriend's relentless competitive drive. That same dogged determination of his had driven them apart all those years earlier, and it threatened to tear apart what they had rebuilt together. She knew that there was no way of recovering what their relationship had already lost to his career. The time, the memories, and the love they would have shared during that period were gone for good.

            Having won Adam back while leaving a good man and two lovely children behind, Julie fretted that she was about to lose it all again. As she unconscioulsy rubbed her baby bump while stopped at a light, she looked over at Adam.

            "I love you, Adam," she declared. "Don't ever forget that."

            "I know."

            The light turned green, and as Julie took her foot off the brake, she blamed the hormones for her worries. She had been totally calm just three days earlier in Adam's den as they discussed the possibility of him going someplace far away. Now just the thought of that made her eyes well up.

            They did not exchange another word for the remainder of the drive to the West End. As she parked the Edge behind her townhouse, she felt his large mitt grasp her hand over the gear shift.

            "Julie…I'm sorry for being short with you back there," he offered. "But I'm going to continue playing. It would be nice if I had your support."

            "Of course you have my support," she insisted, somewhat hurt that he had doubted it. "I'm just a little worried."

            He gave her a reassuring smile as he released his grasp and unfastened his seatbelt.

            "That's natural," he declared. "But there's no need to worry. I've got this in the bag. I've never felt better, honestly!"

            Julie nodded, not agreeing with Adam's optimism but _wanting to._

            "And now that the Old Bastard is gone, nothing is holding me back," he continued. "Y'know, I never realized how much he _had_ been holding me back. But not anymore. I'm my own man, in control of my own destiny. You said I was 'getting up there.' Well, maybe I am. But Mark Messier played until he was 43. That gives me a good ten years left."

 _Except Messier didn't spend five seasons on the Injured Reserve,_ Julie thought but did not dare say.

            "Of course," she softly agreed instead.

            She did not want to argue with him, and she _really_ did not want to believe her own doubts. They seemed cruel to her. After all, Adam was so cheerfully convinced of his own ability to play for another ten years.

            "So we're good?" He asked.

            "Yes, of course, sweetie."

            "Glad to hear it."

            He reached over and grasped her chin before pulling her in for a light kiss on the lips.

            "I love you too, by the way," he added with a smile. "Now let's get inside."

            The pair got out of the crossover and began to unload the back. Adam looked like he had seen a ghost as Julie grabbed his skates and stick.

            "What?" She asked.

            "Oh, nothing," he replied. "I got that," he added, taking the gear.

            He already had a suitcase in one hand and a duffel bag slung over his shoulder, but the superstitious hockey player did not want to incur the wrath of the hockey gods by allowing an outsider to handle his equipment…even if that outsider had been a hockey player herself back in the day.

            Julie shrugged it off, reasoning that Adam was just being himself and not allowing her to over exert herself. Ironically, the duffel bag she grabbed was much heavier than either the skate case or the stick, but he had not appeared troubled by that.

            After depositing his bags in Julie's bedroom, Adam spent the next half hour or so unpacking. This had proven to be a much easier and less time consuming task than the sifting he had done back in Lincoln – going through mountains of possessions to see what he could and could not live without.

            Having gotten the unpacking out of the way, he made his way downstairs to unwind.

            Julie had been working in the kitchen when she noticed that Adam had walked into the living room.

            "Whatcha doin'?" She called out from the kitchen, observing him through the gap between the counters and cabinets.

            "Just getting my bearings," he called back as he sauntered over to the in-flush bookshelves that flanked the flat-screen TV.

            Julie gave her hands a quick rinse – having just rolled a slab of beef into meatballs – before joining Adam.

            "I see your ex gave you back your library," he observed, noting the vast collection crammed into the shelves.

            "Heh, yeah," she agreed. "He wasn't exactly desperate to have reminders of me laying around."

            The off-duty sergeant looked down in a self-conscious fashion. She had gotten over the need to do penance by depriving herself of Adam months ago, but the memory of James and their split had retained its ability to trigger angst.

            Adam saw this and moved quickly to change the subject.

            "So…any reading recommendations?"

            Julie stroked her chin in thought as she looked over the various spines. One volume that caught her eye was the flame-colored paperback that contained Richmond Lattimore's translation of _The Iliad._ During her car ride with Adam, she had been feeling a bit like Homer's Cassandra: a prophetess of doom and gloom who no one in Troy believed. Adam had been similarly dismissive of Julie's worries.

            Deciding that she did not relish the comparison to a princess who had gotten taken into concubinage and murdered, Julie continued looking over other spines.

            "Oooh," she enthused, pulling a thick blue paperback off the shelf. "I think you'll like this one," she suggested, handing the book to Adam.

            He looked down at the slightly worn volume, _English Passengers_ by Matthew Kneale _._ The cover featured an old-timey sailing ship riding the waves.

            "It's an adventure story," Julie explained. "Kinda grim, to be honest…but gripping. It's about this vicar who travels to Tasmania to disprove Evolution. But the rest of the passengers who go along with him get caught up in the exploits of colonialism. You know they're bad when the pirates who make up the ship's crew actually look civilized by comparison."

            "Tasmania, huh?" Adam gave a pensive nod as he continued looking over the cover.

            He had known of Tasmania only as a distant island that had inspired the creation of a particularly rambunctious Looney Tune. Though he was not the reader that Julie was, he could never resist an adventure.

            "Well, pirates are cool too, I guess," he continued. "Thanks."

            "No problem," Julie replied. "I better head back to the kitchen. All set?"

            Adam nodded in reply, settling into the living room's leather armchair and opening the book without breathing another word.

_Heh. Maybe I can make him forget his hockey dreams with books._

            Julie actually laughed out loud at the absurdity of that suggestion, prompting Adam to look up from his book.

            "Sorry," she offered with an impish smile. "I'll leave you to it."

            Returning to the kitchen, Julie mused over the highs and lows of the day. She had been so excited to have Adam move in with her, an incredible first in their long relationship. Even when they had been together at Boston University, they lived in separate dorm rooms. But as they had gotten closer to home, her excitement had given way to worry as she fretted over Adam's career prospects.

            And now he was there, in her living room – in _their_ living room.

            Running a hand over her belly, she figured that she should savor this quiet night at home while she could.

* * *

 

            Guy shot out of bed at the sound of his alarm, showing off his admirable personal discipline. But the tall brunette who shared his bed – no stranger to discipline herself – let out a groan.

            "Come back to bed," Alyssa pleaded.

            "Sorry, no can do," the forward replied as he made his way to his dresser and retrieved some fresh gym clothes. "The General…I mean _Adam,_ will be here any minute to train."

            Alyssa groaned once more before rolling onto her side and trying to go back to sleep while Guy got dressed. During the three months since the end of hockey season, Adam and Guy had been regular guests at each other's homes. But the laid back video game therapy in the days that immediately followed the infamous 'No-Goal' had given way to intense workout sessions.

            As Adam liked to remind Guy whenever the blond forward grumbled too much, the two of them had promised back in December to fight one more battle together. The pair of former Ducks, both 33 years of age, had become each other's buddy in the trenches as they fought to extend their careers. Like a wall of machine gun fire, time had ruthlessly cut down thousands of players that preceded them.

            But Adam and Guy pressed forward despite the overwhelming odds against success.

            It was obvious, however, which of the former Ducks was more desperate for the glory waiting on the other side of the battle field.

            Some eighteen years earlier, Guy had to be dragged off the ice by the trainers during JV's struggle against Varsity. But the competitive flame that had burned so intensely all those years ago had diminished considerably in recent weeks.

            Nevertheless, he had promised Adam his support and he was determined to honor it.

            As he grabbed a chilled water bottle from the refrigerator, he heard a knock at the door.

_Right on time._

            He discovered Adam on the other side of his apartment door in a black Tampa Bay Lightning T-shirt and matching gym shorts.

            "Hey man," Guy greeted his friend.

            "What's up?"

            "Interesting outfit."

            "What, are you a fashion critic now?" Adam shot back. "Black and blue bring me good luck."

            Recalling the incredible four years in Tampa at the start of his career, Adam had taken to wearing their colors during workouts. Guy, wearing Bruins black and gold, figured that he did not look too different from his friend, but found it odd that Adam was trying to summon glories from an organization that he was three teams and ten years removed from.

            The reluctant warrior did not question his more enthusiastic partner, however, as they made their way to the fitness center in the basement of his Beacon Hill apartment building. At Adam's insistence, they showed up every day at the opening hour. The attendant had been running a few minutes late that day, and earned an evil look from Adam as he unlocked the door and allowed them in.

            As the days ticked by without any offers from any NHL franchise, Adam had grown increasingly restless. And he lost patience with anyone he felt got in his way, however minor the infraction. The tardy attendant would provide a fresh bundle of kindling for the fire raging inside of Adam.

            After they got their stretches out of the way, the pair of hockey players made their way over to a bench. The former All-Star was in no mood to waste reps on a warm-up set, so he slapped three 50-pound weights, one 25-pound weight, and one 5-pound weight onto each end of the 40-pound bench bar.

            Guy's hazel eyes widened at the sight of the 400-pound load.

            "No one ever got into the NHL by scratching their balls," Adam declared before laying down on the bench.

            "Adam…this is insane. You're gonna hurt yourself."

            "Just shut up and spot me."

            A worried Guy reluctantly nodded before getting into position at the head of the bench. He wrapped his fingers around the bar and was startled as he felt the massive load sink.

            Adam had managed to stop the bar just before it could crush his collarbone. Unwilling to let Guy see him struggle, he exhaled only slightly as he struggled to push the load off of his chest.

_One._

            The former All-Star inhaled as he brought it down once more. He breathed out and extended his powerful arms, sending the weight back up.

_Two._

            He brought it back, inhaling along the way. He exhaled a bit louder this time, as his thick bronze arms pushed the load away.

_Three._

            He had seven agonizing reps to go, but he was determined to make it to ten. Each rep brought him one step closer to the NHL, and he relished the challenge. And he was unwilling to let Guy slack off, so he felt the need to provide a strong example.

            He brought the weight back down.

            Thinking about the loafing attendant who had the nerve to open the doors late, Adam exhaled and completed his fourth rep. This little annoyance fueled two more reps, bringing his total up to six.

            As he brought the weight back down, his mind turned to Philip.

            Guy nearly jumped back as he felt the weight return to him at a rate that far exceeded anything Adam had managed before.

_Seven._

            With the scowling visage of Philip Banks on his mind, Adam brought the weight back down and figured that he had enough fuel to complete his set. But as he extended the weight back up for his eighth rep, his biceps and triceps began to burn.

            He flashed a defiant grin before taking a deep breath. As Guy moved to help Adam lift the bar, the blond forward felt a jolt as Adam sent the bar flying once more.

_Nine._

            But that last rep had taken a fierce toll, and Adam's arms were burning life wildfire. As he brought the weight back down, just one rep away from completion, the thought of leaving his set incomplete occurred to him for the first time.

            But he willed that defeatist thought out of his mind and inhaled deeply. His hot, spit-laced breath went forth from his mouth like steam from a kettle. He inhaled again before attempting his final rep, and exhaled while he struggled against the crushing load.

            Though the spirit was willing, the flesh proved weak.

            He took a quick breath and exhaled again…his teeth gritting while a vein throbbed against his forehead. His red, veiny neck betrayed a similar sign of exertion.

_Come on, you fucker._

            As Adam tried once more to push the weight off, he felt the load lighten up. He felt a euphoric rush, as though his will had triumphed over the weight. But as Guy helped him guide the bar back onto the tray, it was obvious who had taken most of the weight.

            "I had that, Germaine!" Adam snapped as he shot up from the bench.

            "You looked like you needed a little help."

            "Yeah, well appearances can be deceptive. Your turn," Adam indicated the bench with his hand.

            Guy's eyebrows flew up at the instruction.

            "I think I'll just take a couple of these off," he began as he started sliding the spring pins off the bar.

            "You will lift that exact load," Adam deadpanned. "Ten reps. We can't afford to take shortcuts."

            "We can't afford to be _stupid,"_ Guy corrected him. "Not at our age. Muscle doesn't grow back as quickly as it used to."

            Adam decided not to press the point, despite being firm in his convictions. The off-season was not getting any longer, and he was convinced that only Herculean efforts would allow them to continue their careers – as though teams would know of their hard work and reward them accordingly.

            Eventually, the pair of forwards completed their workouts. Guy was particularly relieved to have gotten the strength training out of the way. He had been quite sensible about what he could and could not lift, and had not allowed Adam to pressure him into overdoing it; but the blond forward worried that his friend was about to kill himself. The hour of sprinting on the treadmills was a piece of cake compared to what they had been doing earlier.

            As the two made their way back to the elevator, Guy spoke up.

            "So, you wanna head upstairs and play video games?"

            "No time," Adam replied shortly as they stepped inside the elevator. "I have to give my agent a call. And I need to touch base with Bombay…he may be willing to help me get my money back from Philip."

            "Oh, okay," Guy agreed as he pressed the button for the lobby. "I guess you gotta keep on fighting."

            "It's the only way."

            "Well…if you get hold of Coach, could you give me his number?" Guy asked. "It's been too long."

            "Fine."

            Guy could tell that Adam was chafing at the bit to move on to the next fight. The former All-Star had not appeared the least bit exhausted from their intense workout session. All Guy – who had been struggling to move – wanted was to take a long soak in a warm bath before moving on to video games.

            "Well, here we are," Adam announced as the elevator stopped at the lobby. "I'll see you again tomorrow morning."

_Terrific._

            "Right," Guy nodded. "Later, man."

* * *

 

            Julie looked up from her copy of _Don Quixote_ as Adam paced around the ground floor of the townhouse. The hockey player had returned home from workouts with Guy and had gone straight to the phone, barely pausing to say 'hello' to Julie.

            His paces were occasionally interrupted by trips to the kitchen table where he scribbled notes from his agent. Once the salient information had been recorded, Adam got moving again. His sense of urgency was so great that he was incapable of sitting still.

            Julie found this incredibly distracting – to say nothing of the gym odors that Adam had not bothered to shower off.

            Meanwhile, Adam impatiently navigated his way through tedious conversations with fellow Eden Hall alumni. He had no way of knowing how to reach Gordon Bombay, so he began by phoning around a few Ducks who Guy had managed to contact in recent months. While Adam's former teammates had been keen to catch up, the determined hockey player pressed them for Bombay's contact information…only to be informed they did not have it, but maybe someone else did.

            So he would get a new number to dial, speak briefly to another former teammate, and get referred to another Duck in his seemingly futile pursuit of Bombay.

            But his odyssey came to an end when he reached Charlie Conway. Formerly known as 'Captain Duck,' the 33-year old high school hockey coach had managed to keep in touch with most of the Ducks; but unlike the rest, he had remained in contact with Bombay. The man had, after all, been like a stepfather to the old Duck captain.

            Eventually, Adam made contact with Coach Bombay, and to his relief, secured a promise from the older man to help fight his father in court. Adam had insisted that Gordon would be well-compensated for his efforts, but the former hockey coach was keen to help a player in need. As he pointed out to Adam, the Ducks had helped turn his life around after his DUI all those years ago.

            "Alright, thanks again, Coach," Adam offered before hanging up.

            Julie studied her boyfriend's expression. He seemed content.

            "Good news?"

            "Oh yes," he confirmed. "Bombay's gonna help me smash the Old Bastard in court, and my new agent has gotten me three offers."

            "Really? That's wonderful! So who are the teams?"

            "Heh. Nobody you've heard of…nobody even _I've_ heard of until a few days ago. They're all based in France."

            "Ah."

            "Whew!" Adam exclaimed, waving away his smelly odor. "I better go shower. Why didn't you tell me that I reeked this badly?"

            "I…."

            "Anyway, I'll see you in a bit, hon," he interrupted.

            And with that, the hockey player turned and made his way upstairs to the bathroom. Julie ran an anxious hand down her forehead and over her face. They had been speaking less and less to each other as July came to a close. Adam had not gotten any NHL offers since parting with Philip, and Julie could feel how tense he had gotten.

            As soon as news came that he had offers in Ligue Magnus, he had moved to take a shower before they could discuss it…as if he knew that it would be a difficult conversation and intended to avoid it.

            Julie did not want to have that conversation either, but as she ran her hand over her stomach, she knew that it could not be avoided.


	18. The Return of the Miracle Man

           Julie took a deep breath and made her way up the spiral staircase. She had spent the last several minutes dreading the conversation that she had to have with Adam, but had been fortified by her pronounced sense of duty. This sense of duty had enabled her to perform unpleasant tasks with professionalism and without complaint for over a decade on the police force.

            Now her maternal duty called upon her to confront her baby's father. And just as the sergeant had not flinched during all of those years in uniform, she did not flinch as she threw open the door to her bedroom.

            But her courage deserted her as she took in the sight of Adam, who had just emerged from the bathroom in nothing but a white towel.

            Her green eyes darkened at the sight of the tall, chiseled man whose summer tan glowed in contrast to the white towel draped around his waist. With his thick, golden mane darkened by the shower, his perfect six pack, and his sharp hip bones drawing a pair of tempting parallel lines, Julie saw her boyfriend as a real-life Apollo.

_I wonder if I can get him to play the lyre for me._

            But those long, powerful arms, with their muscles and veins throbbing against the skin gave the appearance of a man who excelled at tasks that were a bit more taxing than playing the harp.

            "Why hello there," Adam greeted her with a flirty smile. "It appears that you have caught me at an awkward moment."

            Julie pushed thoughts of her favorite Greek god out of her mind as Adam spoke up. Despite having claimed that it was an 'awkward moment' for him, he did not appear the least bit uncomfortable. It took every ounce of Julie's willpower not to yank that towel off and throw him onto the bed.

            "We need to talk," she announced.

            "Then talk," he replied in a nonchalant air while moving to retrieve clothes from the walk-in closet.

            She bit on her lower lip as she took in the sight of his ripped back; although she disliked how his intensive training regime had left him with little time for her, she could not deny that the results were a joy to behold.

            "What's going to happen if your only offers come from French teams?" She demanded as he re-emerged from the closet.

            "Then I'll sign with one of them," he announced with a bored shrug. "It wouldn't be the ideal situation, obviously. But I _have_ to play. I was out almost all of last season, and if I'm a free agent for all of next season…then that's it for me. It'll be retirement."

            Julie was tempted to ask 'so?' but knew enough to bite her tongue instead. Adam continued.

            "If I can go over to France and dominate for a season…then the NHL will come calling for me again. The GMs just need to see me stay healthy for a full year before they take a chance on me. I get that."

_But what about THIS, you jackass?!_

            The furious thought ran through Julie's mind as she rubbed her belly. But Adam had not noticed the gesture, having been temporarily blinded by the act of putting on a shirt – a white, sweat-resistant mesh polo that could accommodate his muscles.

            She turned away as he dropped his towel and moved to put on a pair of briefs. He resisted the urge to laugh at her 'prudishness.' She had only seen him – all of him – a thousand times or so, and he never understand her need to look away when they were not going at it.

            "I know, you're probably worried about the baby," he announced a minute later.

            "Gee, ya think?!" She asked, turning back to face him.

            He had slipped on a pair of khaki cargo shorts, and unwittingly forfeited his advantage by clothing himself.

            Julie felt greater confidence, now that Adam could not dissuade her through temptation.

            "Our child needs a dad," she declared. "How can you be one while you're on the other side of the Atlantic?! Do you have any idea how crazy that sounds?"

            "I wouldn't be there all 12 months of the year," he protested. "And our child needs a roof over its head and food on the table. I have to do my part to provide that. Bombay's good, but maybe he's rusty. I can't guarantee that he's going to beat Philip in court. One thing I'll say for the Old Bastard: he's a _clever_ old bastard."

            Julie rolled her eyes.

            "And how much is Ligue Mangus putting on the table, exactly?"

            "30,000 euros."

            "In _dollars_ , if you'd be so kind?"

            "That's 35,000. Or thereabouts."

            "Adam…I make double that amount," Julie announced. "In a _bad_ year. With enough overtime – which I've gotten every year but one – I crack the six-figure mark."

            "Well good," he offered through gritted teeth, emasculated by his girlfriend's larger income. "I'm glad we'll be able to keep the ship afloat during my year in Europe. Then I'll come back to America…or Canada…and begin making millions again."

            "Oh my God, Adam. Do you _hear_ yourself? Next we're moving to _Canada?_ Granted, it's on the right side of the ocean, but it's still a foreign country."

            He shrugged again, his nonchalance irritating her further.

            "We can't rule out Canada," he declared. "Last time I checked, they had NHL franchises too."

            "So what, you're going to drag _us_ there?" She demanded. "Or better yet, you're going to leave us here, and be an absentee father during hockey season. Is that the plan?"

            "Why are you hectoring me?!" He shot back. "Our baby will have things…will have _advantages_ that almost no other child in the world will have. An amazing house, the best childcare, a world-class education, and unlimited opportunity. Do you think these things come _cheaply?!"_

            Julie's eyes widened as Adam stressed the importance of money. It seemed that his idea of fatherhood was limited to making a hefty income.

            The thought reminded her of someone else.

            "Adam, you sound _just like_ your father. You're _turning into_ _him,_ aren't you?"

            The hockey player shot his girlfriend an icy look that made her shudder.

            "I…am _not…_ my father," he seethed.

            The magma rising from within caused him to tremble with rage.

            He could not believe that the woman he loved had just compared him to the one person he despised above all else. The man who had dominated him since before he could walk and talk. The man who had taken everything and turned his life upside down. The man who wanted to use his own future grandchild as leverage to render his son a slave.

            Julie saw her mistake and moved to placate Adam with a hug.

            "Adam, I…"

            He pushed her aside as he made for the door.

            "I need to go for a walk. A _long_ walk."

            Her eyes took on a misty sheen as she observed her beautiful, but temperamental Apollo walk out on her. Dressed in a white shirt and light khaki shorts, his bronze skin looked ready to absorb more of the summer sun, but his angry gait was not indicative of a man looking to enjoy the weather.

            As she heard him stomp down the spiral staircase, Julie slid down the wall of her bedroom and began to sob once she reached the floor.

* * *

 

            Two long days passed since Adam had stormed out of the townhouse. Julie had not received so much as a text from him, but had been informed by Guy that the brooding forward was staying at his apartment in Beacon Hill.

            Having cried her eyes out already, she resolved not to give Adam any more of her tears. She had been genuinely sorry for the parallel she had drawn between the Banks men, but felt that Adam's reaction was over the top – and unfair. She had sent him a barrage of pleading texts, voicemails, and emails over the past couple of days, only to receive a cold shoulder in response.

            But as the sun rose on the morning of the third day, Julie refused to countenance any more servility. It was Adam's turn to humble himself now.

            After eating breakfast and showering, she threw on a summery lime green V-neck and a pair of khaki maternity shorts before heading downstairs. No sooner had she reached the final step then she heard the doorbell ring. She made the short walk over and looked through the peephole.

            The sight prompted a gasp.

            Taking another look, she focused on the visitors who were waiting on her front step. She was not entirely sure that they were real. Hearing a knock at the door, she shook her head and moved to open it.

            "Hey, kid," Gordon Bombay greeted his former goalie with an affable grin. "Geesh, you're not a kid anymore, are you? Well you look great, regardless. May we come in?"

            Julie looked over her old coach, who had been carrying a leather briefcase. He had lost the youthful visage that he had the day he hoisted the Ducks banner at Eden Hall some eighteen years earlier in the autumn of 1996. His chestnut-colored hair was too dark to be natural, and the fastidious lawyer had taken care to ensure that his eyebrows were a matching shade.

            Standing next to him was a boy, who looked to be about 9 or 10, and appeared to share Gordon's baby blue eyes. But the child's dark brown curls reminded Julie of someone else.

_Kevin._

            "Uh, sure," she spoke up at last, willing the poor orphan out of her mind. "Come in, please."

            The former goalie offered a wide smile for her guests, eliciting a return grin from the lawyer. Of all the Duck smiles, Julie Gaffney's was the most radiant – and the most contagious.

            "This is Alex, by the way," Gordon introduced the boy as they walked into the foyer. "My son."

            "Really?" A surprised Julie asked.

            "Heh, yeah…I finally got around to having kids ten years ago," he informed her. "I've got a little girl who's with her mother back home on the West Coast. I brought _this_ little guy along because he wanted to meet hockey players."

            The boy's face lit up with an enthusiastic smile.

            "Yeah!" He agreed.

            "So where is Adam, anyway?" Gordon asked. "We have some business," he announced, tapping his briefcase.

            "Feh. Throwing a hissy fit at Guy's apartment," Julie scoffed. "I guess I should give you directions to the place."

            Her pleasant expression hardened into a severe frown at Gordon's mentioning of Adam. The old Duck coach knew that they were an item from the call Adam had placed to him several days earlier. Seeing that one of his Ducks was down, he decided that business could wait a bit.

            "You know…I have quite a bit of experience with relationship difficulties," he offered with a slight smile. "Would you like to talk?

            Julie sighed. She disliked navel-gazing, and she _hated_ discussing things that bothered her, preferring to deal with them privately. She had always been a formidable one-woman army, and rarely felt the need to enlist allies and risk exposing her pride.

            "If you must," she replied, sliding on her stoic cop mask while leading her guests into the living room. "I'm sorry, but I really don't have anything for kids here. I guess I can let him watch TV though."

            Although Alyssa's former bedroom had been converted for Julie's baby, the crib, dresser, stuffed animals, and rocker did not really offer anything for a 10-year old boy.

            "Oh, that's quite alright," Gordon replied. "He's got his iPod, anyway," he added with a chuckle.

            The lawyer had always taken care to monitor his son's time on electronics, not wanting the boy to overdo it. But Gordon had deep appreciation for electronic gizmos in situations like this. Alex was already plugging away at the device, complete with earbuds as he settled onto the couch.

            "Why don't we talk in the kitchen?" Gordon suggested.

            Julie nodded before leading her former coach into the cozy space.

            "Have you guys already had breakfast?" She asked.

            "Oh yes," Gordon affirmed. "We're good. Why don't you have a seat?" He indicated the kitchen table with his hand. "I'll make you a cup of joe. No worries, it'll be decaf," he added, showing cognizance of the baby bump.

            Eventually, the two settled in and Gordon regaled Julie with tragicomic tales of relationships past. To her relief, she did not have to talk much about her own problems at all. Instead, Gordon told different stories that highlighted different problems but were connected by a common thread. Namely, the folly of taking things too seriously.

            "If two people really love each other," he began, "they know deep down that they never meant to hurt each other. Forgiveness then becomes easy…once they get over their pride. I sent many a woman on her way because my pride couldn't bear to admit that I was making an ass out of myself. It was just easier to walk away."

            "Just because it's _easy_ to walk away, it doesn't mean that it's _right,"_ Julie asserted.

            "That's true," Gordon agreed before taking a sip of coffee. "But people…even _good people…_ don't do the right thing 100 percent of the time."

            Julie didn not reply but sipped her own coffee instead.

            "I'm sure that includes _you,"_ her former coach added with a teasing grin. "I'm not saying that Adam walking out was the most chivalrous thing in the world, but I know the kid. He would never leave unless he was pushed."

            "Heh, well…I _did_ compare him to his father."

            Gordon choked on his coffee, prompting Julie to laugh.

            "Yeah, I know," she agreed. "That was a mistake. But does that really justify walking out and cutting off all communication with me?"

            "Julie…you can't evaluate relationships with a balance sheet. Either you forgive each other and move on, or your relationship will break down into tit-for-tat spiting before blowing up completely."

            She shrugged before grasping her mug with both hands.

            "I've already reached out to him. Repeatedly. If he wants a life with me then he's going to have to act on it himself. And you can tell him I said that."

            "I'll see what I can do," Gordon offered as he stood up from the table. "I should head over to Guy's. Are you gonna be alright?"

            Julie nodded, standing up to bid her former coach a safe trip.

            "I'll be fine," she declared. "I'll be even better when Adam prostrates himself and begs for forgiveness while he kisses my feet."

            Gordon chuckled as he gave Julie a quick hug, which she returned.

 _Well…at least she won't rip his head off at the door,_ he reasoned.

* * *

 

            Adam wiped the sweat off his brow as he hunched over the glass patio table on Guy's balcony. The former All-Star had been spending his exile in Beacon Hill brushing up on his French, using materials borrowed from his fellow Eden Hall alumnus. Guy had kept various dictionaries, grammar manuals, and workbooks over the years to maintain his ability to talk to his grandparents who still lived in Quebec.

            Adam eagerly took to the French material both to pass the time and to provide himself with _some_ knowledge of the language.

            On the other side of the balcony glass, Alyssa gave Adam's back a disgusted look. The trainer thought that the former All-Star had acted like a perfect ass by walking out on Julie, and she was annoyed with Guy for providing him sanctuary. Adam was well aware of this hostility, and spent most of his waking moments avoiding Julie's friend by sweating it out on the hot, muggy balcony.

_Besides, I work better alone. Always have._

            "Whew!" Guy exclaimed as he slid open the patio door. "It's like a sauna out here."

            " _Oui,"_ Adam agreed. _"Il est très chaud ici."_

            "Ah, _très bien, mon ami,"_ Guy encouraged his friend before stepping outside with an ice cream float in each hand.

            "Quick, before it melts," the blond forward advised, handing his friend a tall, frosty glass.

            Normally, Adam would turn away the sugary treat and reprimand Guy for indulging in something that was so fattening. But the cold glass felt too good in the former All-Star's sweaty mitts, and the creamy, chocolaty mixture it contained came as too sweet a relief for Adam to protest.

            "Thanks, man," he offered before taking a deep pull on the straw.

            "No problem," Guy replied, pulling up a chair and taking a seat across the table.

            The blond forward looked over his old friend. Adam had arrived at his apartment three days earlier with nothing but the clothes on his back, and had taken to wearing Guy's clothes as the days went by. Though they had the same waist size, Guy's torso and arms were shorter, and his gray Bruins T-shirt and blue cargo shorts on loan left much of Adam's bronze skin exposed.

            "You sure look sexy, you great big man," Guy teased his friend in a high, lispy voice.

            "Heh, very funny. You've got the two-way hockey down, I see."

            "Touché. But seriously, if you stop by Julie's, I bet you can find some clothes that fit," the shorter forward suggested. "She's probably thrown them onto the street by now, so you won't even have to go inside."

            Adam's sapphire eyes shot daggers in response.

            "Just a suggestion," Guy threw his hands up in surrender after setting his drink down.

            "I'm fighting for Julie and our child," Adam declared. "I want them to have everything they deserve, and I don't want them to go through the Old Bastard to get that. But Julie just couldn't resist comparing me to him."

            "I know," Guy assured him. "And I bet she feels terrible about it."

            "Good. Let her feel terrible about it then. She needs to learn," Adam replied. "In the meantime, I have to worry about making a living," he added before pausing to take a sip of his float. "What about you? What's your next move? If the NHL is out, I'm sure my agent can get you into _la_ _Ligue_."

            As Adam spoke, Guy's eyes wandered up through the glass door that led back into the apartment. He could see Alyssa cleaning up in the kitchen, and was unable to stifle a smile as he took in the lovely sight. Her long, toned physique was on display in her pink spaghetti-stringed tank top and high rise denim shorts.

            "Uh…Guy?"

            "Oh, hey."

            "Stay with me now," Adam instructed his friend. "Has your agent been in touch?"

            "Only to say that he's still trying," Guy replied with a shrug. "And you know what…I really don't care. Surprisingly."

            "Well you _should,"_ Adam shot back. "If your agent isn't producing, I'll put you in touch with mine. We may even be able to continue as teammates in France."

            "No, I mean I don't care about _playing,"_ Guy clarified, drawing a shocked look from Adam.

            The pair of former Ducks sat across from each other in total silence for what felt like eternity. Being the only other Duck that went pro, Adam had seen much of himself in Guy. They were both hockey men for life, having been on the ice since the age of 6. And true blue hockey men simply do not walk away voluntarily…they get _pushed_ into retirement by age, injury, or a lack of interest from teams.

            In his confused state, Adam was unable to speak.

            Guy, on the other hand, worried that he had offended his friend and was reluctant to speak out of fear of agitating him further.

            The uncomfortable silence was broken by the sound of the patio door sliding open.

            "Uh, guys," Alyssa called out. "The doorman says that somebody named Gordon Bombay is here to see Adam."

            "Oh, good," a surprised Adam replied. "Could you send him up, please?"

            "Guy?" Alyssa asked, refusing to take requests from Adam.

            "Yes, send him up, please."

            The tall brunette nodded before closing the door and turning on her heel.

            "Heh, I almost forgot about the lawsuit," Adam said. "It'll be good to see Coach. We're gonna destroy the Old Bastard."

            "I'm just looking forward to seeing Coach again," Guy replied.

            "Well of course I'm happy _to see_ him," Adam snapped. "Business and personal interests coincide…for once."

            Guy gave a silent nod in reply. After a few moments of silence, he looked over at his friend's empty float glass, got up and extended his hand.

            "I'll take that back to the kitchen," he offered.

            "Thanks," Adam replied, handing his friend the glass.

            The host went inside and made his way to the kitchen. As he ran the glasses under the faucet he heard footsteps coming from the living room.

            "Hello, Guy?"

            Despite having gone their separate ways some eighteen years earlier, Guy recognized the voice of Gordon Bombay immediately and turned off the tap.

            "I'm in the kitchen, Coach!" He called back. "I'll be right over."

            Guy made his way over to Bombay and discovered his former coach in an open-collar white dress shirt and a pair of pleated khaki slacks, standing next to a boy in a black Banks #9 T-shirt and a pair of matching gym shorts. Bombay had a brown leather briefcase in hand, as well.

            "Hey, Coach!" Guy greeted his visitor, opening his arms for a hug, which Bombay readily gave.

            "Great to see you, Guy!" The older man replied as he separated from his former player. "And this little guy is my son, Alex."

            "Hey, Little Man," the hockey player greeted the boy with a playful smile.

            "And _this,_ " Gordon indicated Guy with his head, "is Guy Germaine. The most underrated player I ever had…by _a lot."_

            "Hi," the boy replied shyly.

            "I'd be happy to give you an autograph," Guy offered, "but I imagine you're here for someone else's."

            "That'd be really sweet of you," Gordon replied for Alex, "I know he'd appreciate it."

            After introducing his guests to Alyssa, Guy briefly showed the two around his apartment, with Gordon frequently pausing to inspect the team photographs that adorned the walls. It amazed the former coach how Guy hung on to reminders of each of his teams, and these teams were not limited to professional ones. Gordon had paid particularly close attention to the old Team USA and Eden Hall photographs, and felt somewhat embarrassed that his own Duck photos were either buried in storage or had gotten lost during various moves.

            Recalling his promised autograph for the youngster, Guy rifled through his closet and dresser for a shirt from one of his old teams. Just as he had kept photos of each of his teams, he had kept apparel from each of them as well. But Alex, an Anaheim native and diehard Ducks fan, was not interested in any of Guy's gear from the Flyers, Avalanche, Stars, Leafs, or Bruins – or from his single college year as a Minnesota Golden Gopher.

            A look of shock washed over Gordon's face as he watched Guy lay his classic green Mighty Ducks jersey onto the bed and sign his name inside the second golden zero, after addressing it to Alex in the first zero. The familiar green article dated back to the mid '90s and had been worn before the Ducks made up the bulk of Team USA's Goodwill Games roster. Before Gordon could protest, Guy gave his former coach a reassuring smile.

            "It's cool, Coach," he offered. "I know you'll take good care of it, right?" Guy asked the boy, who eagerly nodded in return.

            As the trio walked out of the bedroom and the boy went ahead to the kitchen to grab a soda, Gordon expressed his gratitude.

            "You…are an absolute prince," he declared. "If you ever need legal help, I'm just a call or an email away – and I won't charge you a penny."

            "Heh, thanks," the modest forward replied, somewhat embarrassed by his former coach's praise. "Hopefully I'll never have to take you up on that. Anyway, Adam's waiting for you…why don't you set up in the kitchen? It's a really stuffy outside."

            Eventually, Adam came back inside and joined Gordon at the kitchen table. After the hockey star signed a puck with a silver paint pen for Alex, he got down to brass tacks with Gordon.

            Gordon assured Adam that victory in court was feasible, but warned that it would not come overnight.

            "You'll need _some_ source of income in the meantime," he told his former star. "I remember your father from my days at Ducksworth, Saver, and Gross. He's good, and he's relentless. He can tie this thing up for years…even without having much of a case. So I have to ask you two things. Firstly, do you want to proceed? And secondly, can you provide for yourself – _and your family –_ as this thing works its way through the system?"

            "The answer to both questions is 'yes'," Adam declared.

            Gordon nodded in response.

            "Julie tells me that you plan on extending your career in France?"

            "Heh, what?" Adam asked. "Did she send you here to give me a better idea?"

            "Not at all," Gordon assured him. "And for what it's worth, I'm fairly certain that she's done with you."

            Adam's eyes widened in shock.

            "Just how much did she tell you?"

            "Enough."

            Gordon had to stifle a satisfied grin as he watched Adam squirm on the other side of the table. It was obvious that he had rattled his former MVP. And knowing Adam's competitive nature, Gordon had banked on the younger man fighting for Julie's forgiveness and affection if that was what he had to do.

            But to Gordon's astonishment, Adam let out a resigned sigh.

            "If that's the way she wants it, then so be it."

            Gordon did not immediately object, but gave Adam time for his own words to sink in. The younger man had to seriously contemplate life without Julie, and it soon became apparent that he was keen to discuss something else.

            "Anyway, getting back to the case…"

            "Adam, I want to show you something," Gordon announced, standing up from the table.

            The younger man got up and followed his former coach, somewhat reluctantly, into the hallway that led to the bedrooms. Gordon put on the brakes and brought Adam's attention to the photograph of Team USA at the Junior Goodwill Games. The older man did not need to point out Julie Gaffney, as Adam's eyes were drawn to her in an instant, but he did so anyway.

            "See that smile?" Gordon asked. "She's still got that same smile…I was on the receiving end of it earlier today. I have to admit, I went away from it feeling a full foot taller."

            Adam was about to make a crack about Gordon's short stature, but stopped himself. The older man was right about the effects of Julie's radiant smile. It brought the sun with her wherever it went, lightening the mood and warming the atmosphere with its gentle brilliance. Even looking at it through a photograph, Adam could feel most of its effects, as the corners of his own mouth formed a wide grin without him being fully aware of it.

            "She is absolutely incredible," he declared.

            "Maybe if you remind her of that, she'll take you back."

            Adam turned back to face his former coach, his grin replaced with a bemused expression.

            "But you said…"

           "…I know what I said," Gordon interrupted. "But I'd give you a puncher's chance. Go for it, Adam."

            He nodded as he began to move away from his coach, only for the older man to stop him with a hand on his shoulder.

            "Hold it," Gordon instructed. "I tried softening her up for you…and I think you can do it…but you're still gonna need something big to turn her."

            A broad ‘Julie smile’ lit up Adam’s face.

            "I think I've got just the thing."


	19. Destiny Realized

           Adam bolted out the door and got into the elevator of Guy's apartment building without even thinking to tell his friend where he was going or what his plans were. The former All-Star could not get the smiling visage of Julie Gaffney out of his mind as he impatiently waited for the elevator to take him to the lobby. He knew that he had made a terrible mistake by walking out on her, and was desperate to win back her affection.

            There was not a moment to lose.

            Eventually, the elevator stopped at the lobby and Adam sped-walked his way out into the muggy afternoon in the first week of August. He no longer had a car of his own, having borrowed Julie's when he lived with her, but he had walked to Guy's Beacon Hill apartment from Julie's West End townhouse without any difficulty.

            So he made the return journey on foot, speed-walking through the crowded sidewalks, and ignoring the occasional jeers from Bruin fanatics who recognized him. Adam Banks possessed tunnel vision when he wanted something, whether it was a goal or the heart of Julie Gaffney, and he made haste to the townhouse.

            As Julie's neighborhood came into view, the sky opened up and began to drench Adam in hot summer rain – the kind of rain that was too warm to provide relief from the heat and made the rest of the journey feel like a march in a steam bath. But he pressed forward, jogging the rest of the way before running up the steps to the front door.

            After ringing the bell, he found himself standing in the middle of a torrential downpour, as the front step was not sheltered by anything. He rang again, then followed it up by pounding on the door.

            For a second, he wondered if she was still home. But that thought was extinguished as Julie's lime green V-neck came into view through the sidelight, providing a brilliant relief from the gray, forlorn surroundings.

            "Geesh, get inside," she instructed, opening the door wider to allow in the stubble-faced man whose ill-fitting clothes were completely drenched in the summer rain.

            "Thanks," he replied as he squished his way into the foyer on his wet sandals. "Julie, I…"

            "Take off those sandals," she commanded him. "And wash up."

_I want you to be clean when you grovel to me._

            "Um, okay. Can I just say…?”

            "…We'll talk after you've had a chance to dry off."

            Adam nodded before making his way up the spiral staircase. He supposed that the clipped, peremptory greeting that he had received from Julie was the best that he could have hoped for, given the circumstances. He went ahead and showered, then followed it up with a nice, close shave from his double-edged razor. Having been in self-imposed exile at Guy's, only uncomfortable cartridge razors had been available to him, so he had gone went without shaving during that time.

            After splashing on some bay rum aftershave and wrapping a towel around his waist, he made his way into the master bedroom's walk-in closet and retrieved one of his suitcases that had been laying on the top shelf.

            A relieved smile lit up his face as he discovered that the object he had been looking for had remained undisturbed. Setting it aside, he moved to get dressed.

            Meanwhile, Julie stood before the mirror in the downstairs half bath, rolling her eyelashes and doing what she could to accentuate her features. She knew that she would find Adam difficult to resist, but she was determined to make him work for her love. The easiest way to build the confidence needed to resist immediate capitulation to him was to look damn good.

            She could not do anything about her 7-month old bump, but she saw to it that her face glowed and that her ample cleavage would be impossible to miss. After drawing her long blonde hair back into a French braid – just the way Adam liked it – she was ready to let him do some begging, so she made the short walk over to the living room.

            Having grabbed a random book off the shelf, she took a seat on the reclining sofa – positioning her still-shapely thighs directly across the bottom of the spiral staircase.

            Taking care to pull her shorts back about an inch, she opened to a random page and pretended to read.

            Several minutes later, she pointedly continued to stare at the same page as she detected the spicy ginger notes of Adam's aftershave.

            At the bottom of the stairs, Adam's lips twisted nervously. It was bad enough that he had to throw himself onto Julie's mercy, but the former goalie had gone to the trouble of looking irresistible to boot.

_Julie…legs…Julie…legs_

            The off-duty sergeant continued her pretense, not deigning to look up from her book.

            "Um…"

            She held up an index finger as she continued staring at the page.

            "Just a minute."

            After several long seconds, she reached for a bookmark and slid it into the paperback before setting it onto the coffee table.

            "I just wanted to finish that chapter," she deadpanned before turning to face him.

            There he was, the love of her life, smelling like heaven and looking like an Abercrombie model in his chest-hugging black V-neck and his designer jeans.

_Not a bad look…for a begging man._

            "Sit down," she commanded.

            He nodded and moved to take his seat next to her on the couch.

            "Hey, Julie," he greeted her before resting a hand on her tummy. "Hey, Kiddo."

            Keeping one hand on her stomach, he grasped her chin with the other before locking his sapphire eyes onto her surprisingly wistful greens. He had been expecting more severity from them, given her tone of voice. But from the look of the eyes, all they wanted was to be loved.

_The eyes never lie._

            "Julie, I'm so sorry…about _everything._ About walking out a few days ago, about walking out _fourteen years_ ago, about spending the summer training instead of being with you, about putting my career before you…about not loving you the way you deserve to be loved…"

            A slight smile formed at the corners of her lips as he spoke.

            "…I've hoisted the Stanley Cup, I've seen arenas full of people who hero-worship me, and I admit…I've even seen my share of supermodels."

            An indignant frown snuffed out the tiny smile on Julie's face.

_Wanna think about that one, Mr. Hot-Shot?_

            But Adam willed himself to continue, despite the nervousness he felt upon seeing Julie's reproachful expression.

            "And none of that…absolutely _none of that…_ compares to your smile."

 _Hmm. Let's see where he goes with this,_ Julie thought as her countenance softened.

            "Ever since we were 13, nothing has made me feel better than your smile. Seeing you light up at my lame jokes, or greeting me after a long day at school – or a tough practice – your smile has been like this amazing trophy. I have no idea what I did to earn it, and I've done quite a lot to deserve losing it; but I've come to realize, it's the only trophy that I really want. And I'll get rid of all the other ones if that's what it takes to keep it."

            Julie raised a pair of surprised eyebrows.

            "Are you saying that you're gonna give up hockey for me?"

            "Yes," he answered without hesitation.

            "Oh, Adam," she cried, pulling him in close for a kiss.

            Tears softly streamed down both of their faces as they reconnected. Just as their love had grown with each of their reunions over the years, so it grew on that steamy late afternoon in August.

            As soon as they parted, he brought his face down to her stomach, lifted the bottom of her shirt and kissed the bump.

            "I love you both… _so much."_

            It was only at that moment when Adam realized just how desperate he was to be not just a father in the biological sense, but a dad in the active sense. Any lingering doubts about giving up hockey for Julie's smile were extinguished when he thought about the game coming between him and his child.

            He let the side of his face rest against Julie's stomach for several minutes, giving the former goalie the opportunity to get her emotional bearings. Looking down at Adam, she smiled at the thought of him as a super-dad. All of that inherent focus and dedication had to go somewhere, now that hockey was out.

_He'll probably read to the kid every night, carry a first-aid kit everywhere they go, and teach it how to skate before it can walk. But we can worry about moderation later._

            She began playfully stroking his hair as if he were some kind of lapdog, prompting him to look up.

            "Hey," she greeted him with a soft smile.

            "Hey back."

            "Adam…I'm sorry I compared you to Philip," she offered. "And for what it's worth, I get the feeling that you'll be everything he's not. He gave you the perfect template on how _not_ to be a dad, after all."

            "Heh, true dat."

            Julie giggled at Adam's 'hip' response.

            "You're just too cool," she teased.

            "Go ahead…you can say it," he replied with a grin. _"How cool am I?"_

            "You da bomb."

            The pair of '90s children laughed out loud at their retro street dialect.

            Once the laughter died down, Adam stood up.

            "Anyway, I think we've apologized enough for one day. Come on, there's some place I want to take you," he beckoned her to follow by extending a hand and helping her off the sofa.

            "Um…okay. Where and what, exactly?"

            "Ah, come on now," he gently chided her. "What ever happened to your love of spontaneity?"

            "Um…are you sure you've got the right woman?" she asked. "You _are_ giving up hockey for her, after all."

            "Ok, so you never liked spontaneity," he conceded. "But humor me at least…please?"

            "Alright," she sighed. "But only because you said _please."_

            And with that, the couple threw on nylon rain jackets and made their way to Julie's Ford Edge, with Adam sitting behind the wheel. As usual, Julie was reluctant to let 'Grandma Banks' drive, but decided to indulge him, given how keen he was to take them to the surprise destination. She figured that he must have been excited, because he was actually giving it a bit of gas, and as iconic Fenway Park came into view, it became apparent that they were approaching the campus of Boston University.

 _The old alma mater,_ she hought.

            The rain let up as they got onto Commonwealth Avenue, drawing a sigh of relief from Adam.

            "Come on, let's go for a walk," he suggested as he parked the car on the side of the road.

            After discarding their rain jackets, the couple joined hands and began walking ahead toward the cross-patterned promenade in front of Marsh Chapel.

            Julie shuddered as she recalled the memory of Adam breaking up with her to pursue a career in the NHL. It had been on this exact spot where Adam said goodbye to her fourteen years earlier. And it had been in _that chapel_ where she had prayed to forget about him.

            "I never liked this chapel," she declared.

            "Really?" Adam asked as he stopped walking. "Well, let's see if we can change that."

            Before she could ask what he was on about, he retrieved a black velvet box from his pocket and got down on one knee. Julie felt her own knees buckle as Adam opened the box and revealed a pear-shaped diamond ring that looked to be about two and a half karats.

            "Julie Marie Gaffney, will you marry me?"

            "Oh my God, yes! Yes, I will marry you!"

            He reached for her left hand and slid the engagement ring – given to him by his late grandmother – onto her ring finger. Having lied to his father about losing the ring, Adam grinned as he pledged his eternal commitment to the woman he loved while defying Philip at the same time.

            "Wow, perfect fit!" Julie exclaimed, raising her hand to examine the ring while Adam stood back up.

            "I hope you don't hate this chapel anymore," he began. "Because I was hoping to have the ceremony here."

            Julie's eyes widened in surprise.

            "Not at this very minute," he replied with a slight grin. "I didn't plan _that_ far ahead, I'm afraid."

            "I think that's a wonderful idea," she replied. "But could you give me time to fit into a wedding dress first?" She asked, glancing down at her belly.

            "Heh, no rush," Adam replied. "I've waited fourteen years already. What's a few more months?"

            Julie smiled before seizing him by the collar of his shirt and pulling him in for a long, deep kiss.

            In the course of just a few hours, she had gone from brooding over Adam Banks to beginning her life with him – at the very spot where it all had come apart years earlier. She knew that neither of them could change the past, but together, they could overcome it.

* * *

 

            October 7th had arrived, and with the start of the 2015-2016 NHL season, Adam Banks was not on the ice. Incredibly, he was not even glued to a TV. Instead, he paced around nervously in a waiting area at Mass General as Julie gave birth – having been banished by the doctors. Given his lack of experience in this arena, he did not understand why they could not simply get the baby out and relieve Julie of her agony.

            " _Come on, already! Quit screwing around!"_ He had snapped. _"All that schooling and you can't even do your jobs? Get on with it!"_

            Julie had paused from her exertions to give the doctors a permissive look and nod.

            " _Why don't you wait outside, Mr. Banks?"_ One of them suggested, ushering him out the door.

            Though he was outside of the operating room, he was still in an area where cellphone use was prohibited, so he had nothing to take his mind off Julie and their child. In the weeks following his proposal, Adam had waited on Julie hand and foot, and after being advised by doctors how painful and difficult childbirth was, he had been looking toward to the day with a mixture of excitement and dread.

            One of the few memories he had from his high school history classes was the fact that childbirth had been women's leading cause of death for centuries.

            For some weird reason this fact had stuck in his mind nearly twenty years later. And despite the excellence of the medical professionals that he had insisted on, he remained sick with worry.

            About two hours later, he decided to hunt down the vending machines and see if he could get some ginger ale for his upset stomach. As he began walking, he was stopped by a doctor.

            "Ah, congratulations, Mr. Banks," she offered with a smile. "You're the father of a beautiful seven pound, eight ounce girl."

            A wave of relief washed over Adam at once.

            "Both mother and daughter are doing very well," the doctor continued. "You may go in and see them now."

            Adam followed the doctor back in to discover a glowing Julie cradling a tiny blanketed bundle of baby in her arms.

            "I'll leave you to it," the doctor declared with another smile before taking her leave.

            "Hey there," Adam greeted Julie.

            "Hey, Daddy," Julie replied, looking up with a playful grin. "Wanna hold her?"

            "Yes, please," he eagerly nodded, hunching over and extending his arms.

            "Careful."

            Adam gently took his sleeping little 'ice princess,' and cradled the warm bundle. He could see a bit of flaxen-colored fuzz peeking out from the little pink beanie that adorned her head.

            "My God, I never knew another human being could be so small. It's crazy, isn't it?"

            "Heh, don't let size fool you. She's a fighter," Julie replied.

            "She's perfect," Adam declared before drawing back the beanie and giving a light kiss on the baby's forehead.

            "Are we still going with Michelle Eden?" He asked.

            Julie nodded. They had discussed potential names in the weeks leading up to the birth, and they had wanted the baby's gender to remain a surprise so they had agreed on the first names Patrick and Michelle in advance – though 'Eden' was going to be the middle name regardless of gender.

            Julie had wanted to honor her father and her late mother in either case, and Adam readily agreed, liking the sound of both names in combination with 'Banks.' After looking up the name meaning and discovering that Michelle meant 'like god,' he liked the girl's name even more.

            After a few minutes, a nurse entered and took Michelle off to the nursery, leaving Adam to feel a bit deflated.

            "Hey," Julie called out to him, extending a hand which he immediately grasped. "Have a seat."

            As he broke off contact to pull a chair up to the bed, Julie realized that she was about to be second fiddle in Adam's life again. But Michelle would occupy the first position, rather than hockey, and Julie would not want it any other way.

            "You look great by the way," he offered with a slight smile. "I never would have guessed that you just gave birth, honestly."

            "Heh, thanks," Julie replied. "Did you feel any sympathy pains while you were waiting?"

            "Oh, did I ever," he affirmed.

            "Aw, sorry about that."

            "No worries," he offered. "If pain came down to a competition, you'd crush me to smithereens. So, uh…way to go, Champ."

            She stifled a giggle before biting on her lower lip.

            "Please don't make me laugh."

            "Uh, sure thing," Adam replied straightening up in his chair and putting on an exaggerated frown. "I will combine the charisma of a statistics professor with the bedside manner of an undertaker."

            She made a slight choking sound as she tried to suppress another laugh.

            "Don't laugh," he advised in the gravelly voice of Jasper from _The Simpsons._ "Or that's a paddlin'."

            Julie stifled more painful laughter upon hearing Adam's allusion to one of her favorite episodes of the classic animated series.

            "Asshole."

            "Sorry, hon."

            "I love you anyway," she offered, gripping his hand tightly.

            "I love you too," he replied, leaning in close. "More than I can ever say," he added before giving her lips a tender kiss.

* * *

 

            Adam felt butterflies in his stomach as he stood next to Julie in their wedding procession at Marsh Chapel. He had no doubt in his mind about wanting to marry her, but he worried about stumbling up to the altar or flubbing his vows. After all they had been through – and after all that _he_ had put her through – he was determined to give her the perfect wedding.

            So he readily agreed to her request for a Catholic priest and to her choice of scripture readings. He just wanted everything to go according to plan and for their guests to enjoy the reception afterward.

            Looking back at his old teammate, Guy gave Adam a reassuring smile.

            "You’ve got this," the best man assured the groom.

            "Heh, thanks," Adam replied in a whisper. "Got any Dramamine, by chance?"

            Guy shook his head in response.

            "But I could knock you out, if you like."

            "Hey," Julie spoke up. "He's retired from that craziness now. The only person who gets to beat on my husband is _me."_

            The wisecracking continued until the priest joined the group, inspiring a reverent hush with his presence. The procession made its way to the altar as the assembly sung the entrance hymn, with the groomsmen in black tuxedos and bowties and the bridesmaids in white dresses. Adam wore a silver necktie in place of the bowtie, and felt the butterflies intensify their assault as his soon-to-be-father-in law walked Julie down the aisle; she wore an elegant, strapless white gown.

            Filling out the assembly were active and recently-retired officers from the Boston Police Department, NHL players from Adam's various teams, fellow coaches on the men's BU hockey team, a few of Julie's college friends, and almost all of her family members. Adam had invited his parents and his brother Joshua, but Philip refused his son's invitation, prompting Joshua to snub his younger brother as well.

            Invitations had gone out to the Ducks, but most of them had to decline, given their own family obligations; though Jesse and Terry Hall made it up from Florida for an 'Oreo Line' reunion with Guy, and Luis Mendoza could never resist a party, so he made the trip up north as well.

            After the priest led the assembly in opening prayers, Julie's father, Pat, made his way up to the lectern to deliver a reading from the Book of Tobit – where the man's son, Tobias, prays to grow old with his bride, Sarah.

            Following the responsorial psalm, Pat returned to the lectern to deliver a reading from Paul's First Epistle to the Corinthians.

                        " _And if I have prophetic powers, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. If I give away all I have, and if I deliver my body to be burned, but have not love, I gain nothing. Love is patient and kind; love is not jealous or boastful it is not arrogant or rude. Love does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice at wrong, but rejoices in the right. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all  things, and endures_ _all things."_

            The priest allowed the last reading to sink in for a moment before standing and moving to retrieve the leather-bound Bible that had been resting on the altar as the assembly rose to its feet.

            Reading from the Gospel according to John, he declared before the assembly that _"_ _greater love has no man than this: that a man lay down his life for his friends."_

            "The Gospel of the Lord," the priest declared.

            "Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ," the assembly responded.

            The priest delved into his homily once the congregation returned to their seats, but Adam found it difficult to focus. Though the Bible readings had not been Julie's own words, they were her choice, and her selections spoke volumes about how she viewed love.

            Namely, it was benevolent, durable, and sacrificial.

            As the priest continued talking, Adam sent up a mental prayer, asking for help in living up to Julie's ideals.

            Once the priest finished, Julie elbowed Adam lightly, drawing him back to the present.

            "We're up," she whispered.

            He nodded while sending up another prayer in secret, this time asking for help in delivering his lines. He felt a spike of adrenalin as he approached the priest with Julie, and desperately plunged the depths of his memory to find his words.

            Fortunately, all that was required was the word 'yes.'

            "Julie, and Adam," the priest began. "Have you come here freely and without reservation, to give yourselves to each other in marriage?"

            "Yes," she replied.

            "Yes," he mimicked her.

_Heh, I got this._

            "Will you honor each other as man and wife for the rest of your lives?"

            "Yes," they replied in unison.

 _Yep, I'm a regular pro at this,_ Adam crowed internally.

            After the priest secured their commitment to welcome children into their union, he moved to bring about the exchange of vows.

            "Since it is your intention to enter into marriage, join your right hands, and declare your consent before God and his Church."

            The adrenalin returned as Adam drew a complete blank. He knew that he had to go first, but he could not for the life of him remember what he had to say.

            But as Julie's hand gripped his rather fiercely, his subconscious clicked into gear and made a perfect declaration of his vows.

            "I, Adam, take you, Julie, to be my wife. I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. I will love you and honor you all the days of my life."

            Without missing a beat, Julie responded:

            "I, Julie, take you, Adam, to be my husband. I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. I will love you and honor you all the days of my life."

            And with that, they exchanged their bands of gold and kissed for the first time as husband and wife.

            The ceremony continued with prayers and communion before the priest dismissed the assembly and were led out into the warm Saturday in June by Adam and Julie.

            After making their way to a nearby hotel ballroom for the reception, Alyssa and Guy led the toasts as maid of honor and best man before the trainer caught the bouquet from Julie. Michelle, who had been perfectly quiet for the entire ceremony, finally had enough and had to be taken back to the townhouse by Pat as the party continued.

            Though the newlyweds were beside themselves in happiness, they knew that their 'honeymoon' would not be a restful one, as they had to make final preparations for their relocation to Bangor, Maine.


	20. Epilogue

           Kevin Banks awoke to the sound of his alarm clock on a crisp Saturday morning in October at his home on the Penobscot River. Acting on the discipline that had rubbed off from his stepfather's example, the 14-year old hopped out of bed and made it into tight hospital corners before moving to the shower.

            And the lanky defenseman with dark brown hair did not waste time with the massage jets in the shower stall. It was game day, and he needed every minute to look over the scouting notes compiled by Adam and to get his body ready for the demands of the coming battle.

            Downstairs in the kitchen, Julie worked over her shiny new stove in the kitchen where her mother had cooked delicious meals during her childhood. Pat had given the deed to his beloved house as a wedding present five years earlier when she had decided to quit the police force and relocate to her hometown with Adam and their infant daughter, Michelle.

            Shortly after settling in the 'Queen City', Julie and Adam adopted the brown-haired orphan who she had met on that sad night in January of 2015. And once Adam had emerged triumphant in his lawsuit against Philip, he used part of his recovered fortune to buy Pat a cozy cottage within easy walking distance to their house – after taking care to reward Gordon beyond his wildest dreams and over the lawyer's objections.

            As Julie began flipping blueberry pancakes, she let out a startled yelp as she felt a pair of strong hands grip her waist.

            "Morning, beautiful," Adam whispered into her ear.

            "OOOF!"

            The retired hockey player recoiled as the back of his wife's hand connected sharply with his face.

            "Heh, sorry," he offered with a chastened smile. "I forgot about the tickling."

            Julie turned from her cooking to face her husband and could not help but grin. The last six years had been good to the man who still made her heart skip a beat. Though he had lost his throbbing muscles, he was still fit and toned. His hair had darkened, but it had remained thick. Dressed in his gameday navy blazer, white dress shirt, and Bangor cardinal tie, it was hard to believe that the boy next door was just two months away from turning 40.

            And his sapphire eyes had retained the boyish energy and liveliness that she loved had loved since her teens. But having started his day with a slap in the face, Adam looked to sweeten things up a bit.

            "In all seriousness though, you really hurt me," he began, rubbing the side of his face and flashing his puppy frown. "How's about a kiss?"

            "Gladly," she replied, draping her arms around his neck and pulling him in for a kiss on the lips.

            He surprised her by deepening the kiss and pressing her up against his body.

            "Adam!" She gasped as they parted.

            But he persisted, feathering kisses from her cheek down to her pulse point, causing her to moan in pleasure.

            "Adam…Kevin will see us," she protested in a breathy voice, enjoying the sensation despite herself.

            "So? What's wrong with him seeing that his parents love each other?" He asked before pressing his lips back onto her neck.

            "Mmmm."

            He grinned against her pulse point, pleased with himself for starting his day by making 'the Cat' purr. He pressed on, working his way past her collarbone and down to her chest.

            She moaned as he continued to nibble and suck the sensitive flesh, and felt about ready to slide out of her white night gown when she heard footsteps coming from the staircase and pushed him back.

            "We better keep it G-rated for the kids," she explained before turning back to her no-stick pan. "Heh, you can have these," she declared, sliding the burnt pancakes onto a plate for her husband.

            "Thanks, sweetheart," Adam replied graciously, having learned the hard way not to complain about Julie's cooking.

            Besides, he already had a strategy for the burnt food.

 _Oskar is going to be one happy pooch,_ he thought as he grabbed a mug of tea.

            As if reading his master's thoughts, the family's German shepherd followed Adam to the kitchen table in gleeful anticipation.

            "Hey Mom, hey Dad," Kevin called out as he entered the kitchen in a pair of black trackpants and a red Bangor Rams T-shirt.

            "Hey, sweetie," Julie called back.

            "What's up, sport?" Adam greeted the boy. "I've got your notes right here," he added, brandishing a stack of typed text held together by a binder clip.

            "Cool, thanks," the 14-year old replied, taking a seat next to his stepdad and grabbing the notes.

            He studied the notes in silence while Julie continued working and Adam took care to force down a few bites of a pancake before letting the dog take care of the other two beneath the table. Eventually, Julie set a plate of perfect golden pancakes in front of her stepson, causing Adam to feel a tinge of jealousy.

_Then again, she probably would have done a better job on mine if I hadn't distracted her._

            The pair of Banks men talked strategy over breakfast, with Adam being particularly anxious about a Lewiston scoring machine on the second line who would be matched up against Kevin. To the coach's relief, his stepson did not brush off his concerns but did not seem paralyzed by fear either.

            As Julie approached the table with a plate of pancakes for herself, she flashed a knowing grin at her husband.

            "Boy, Oskar sure seems happy this morning," she declared, noting the full, content dog laying at Adam's feet.

            "Well, you know Oskar," Adam replied. "He's the world's happiest pooch."

            "How could he not be, given all my cooking?"

            Julie giggled as she watched her husband blush. The retired hockey player tried to obscure his red face with his mug, but it was too late. He choked slightly on his tea as he felt his wife kick his shin from across the table.

 _I guess I'm on foot rub duty tonight,_ he thought as he got up from the table with his plate in hand.

            "Finish up and get in the car – after you've brushed your teeth," he called back to his stepson. "We need to get to the arena."

            The 14-year old did not need to be told twice. Whenever the arena called, his response was always immediate. After putting his plate in the dishwasher, he raced back upstairs while his stepfather poured the remainder of the breakfast tea into a BU traveler's mug. During his first year of retirement, Adam had landed an assistant coaching job at Boston University. Once he got a taste of coaching, he had been keen to continue, and leapt at the head coaching job at Bangor High.

            Given the recovery of his assets from Philip, he had not needed the work to pay the bills, but he needed something to structure his days and keep him occupied; he took to coaching like a duck to water.

            Having left his clipboard on the kitchen table, he made his way over from the counter to retrieve it, only for Julie to yank him by the tie and pull him in close.

            "Don't think you're getting off so easy, Coach," she declared with a teasing grin.

            "Movie night?"

            "And?"

            "One of my world-famous foot massages?"

            "You learn quickly," she offered before giving him a light kiss on the lips. "Now go kick some Blue Devil butt!"

            "Ready to go, Dad?"

            Adam turned with a start to see Kevin with his red Rams hockey bag slung over his shoulder, ready to go.

 _So light on his feet,_ the coach thought.

            "Uh, yeah," he replied. "Let's go."

            "Hey, hey, hey!" Julie called out, motioning for Kevin to approach.

            The boy stifled a sigh before approaching his stepmother and leaning in to kiss her on the cheek. As much as he loved his mom, he was a teenager after all.

            "Love ya," he mumbled.

            "Aw, I love you too," Julie replied before giving his cheek a peck. "Now, off you go! I'll be at the arena in a little bit."

            And with that, the Banks men took their leave while Julie put away her plate and made her way upstairs to shower. After changing into a red Bangor Rams sweatshirt and a pair of blue jeans, she checked her various social networking accounts for updates. She offered her old friend and former roommate Alyssa a 'like' for the latest picture she had posted to Instagram: subtitled 'another day at the office,' it featured Guy and their dark-haired son, Austin, making a sandcastle on a Tampa-area beach.

            Guy had in fact found work after hockey, though it did not involve beaches. He had gotten into business with the Hall Brothers to form a hockey training company for kids, and had used some of Adam's connections in Tampa to get the enterprise off the ground. It had been doing well, and Adam's considerable investment in the company was already turning a handsome profit.

            A few minutes later, Julie heard the doorbell ring and made haste to the foyer while Oskar barked.

            "Shush, Oskar!" She called back to the German shepherd who piped down at once.

            Upon opening the front door, her face lit up into a massive smile.

            "Hey, sweetie!" She greeted her daughter as she threw her arms around the 6-year old.

            The blonde-haired girl returned the embrace, but got out of it a bit quicker than her mother would have liked. Not that it bothered the girl's grandfather, Pat, who swooped in and gave Julie a hug of his own. The 65-year old retiree had been hosting his granddaughter for a sleepover, and had come to pick his daughter up for the drive to the arena.

            "Ready to go?" He asked.

            "Let me just get my purse," she replied, turning back inside to fetch the item.

            Pat gripped his granddaughter's hand and led her back to his white Lincoln Navigator. The gray-haired man loved all of his grandchildren, but he especially loved having Michelle around. Kind, affectionate, curious, and bright, she reminded him of Julie so much. The girl looked almost exactly like her mother had at that age – though Pat had to concede that her sapphire eyes were Adam's.

            As Julie grabbed her handbag, she looked over the massive stack of exam papers on the coffee table in the living room.

            _Heh, I guess I know what I'll be doing all of tomorrow._

            Though she was in her sixth year of teaching criminal justice at Eastern Maine Community College, it had not taken her long to discover that teacher habits mirror student habits when it came to procrastination. Despite the paper work, she enjoyed the other aspects of the job, from lecturing to mentoring, and she greatly appreciated her father's efforts in helping her secure the comfortable position back home.

            Eventually, Pat made the short drive with his daughter and granddaughter to Sawyer Arena, where the hometown Rams and visiting Blue Devils were doing their pregame warm-ups on opposite ends of the ice when the trio took their seats directly behind the Bangor bench. As they arrived, they were greeted warmly by Pat's older daughter, Debbie, her husband Jack, and their younger son Corey.

            Michelle, who would be going out for hockey only a week later, was fascinated by the on-ice drills that her father ran with his players. They were considerably more involved than anything the little girl had experienced – at her level, the coaches were focused on skating and making sure the kids stayed upright – and she found them completely engrossing.

            Julie leaned in and explained to her daughter what the boys – who included her stepbrother, Kevin, and her cousin Tyler – were doing and how it helped them prepare.

            Eventually, warm-ups ended, and as the teams returned to their benches while the Zamboni made a quick run, Adam looked up into the stands to see his _real_ family on the other side of the Lexan. Seeing his daughter light up in a broad grin caused him to smile in return as he waved back to her.

_My little Ice Princess._

            Both teams returned to the ice once it had been smoothed over for the National Anthem — Lewiston in white jerseys and blue shorts and Bangor in their all-cardinal uniforms. Julie had worn that uniform herself when she met the Ducks ahead of the Junior Goodwill Games some 26 summers earlier. Once the Anthem had been sung, both teams returned to their benches and each coach gave pep talks before dispatching their first lines ahead of the opening faceoff.

            As the first lines took their positions on the ice, Julie could see Adam's profile. Just as they had been on that summer day in 1995, his deep blue eyes were completely focused on the task at hand. Beautiful, formidable…and utterly relentless.

            Looking down at her daughter just ahead of the puck drop, Julie saw that same gaze in Michelle.

_The apple didn't fall far…I love it._

* * *

 

            Kevin practically hummed with excitement as his stepmom's hunter green Ford Expedition made its way north to Orono. Seated in the back, the 18-year old had accepted a full hockey scholarship to the University of Maine and was eager to begin his life as a young adult. Standing at six-foot-five with a thick, dark mane and a generous helping of stubble, the young defenseman looked like a pro already, though he did not anticipate leaving school early like his stepfather had.

            Riding shotgun up front, Adam looked out the window and observed the yellowish tint that the leaves had taken at the end of August. Having learned that Orono was located north of Bangor, he fretted about experiencing another linguistic disaster, given that large swaths of Aroostook County was French-speaking.

            But Julie assured him that Orono was not _that_ far north, and that one could get by in the far north of the state by speaking English.

            Eventually, the UMaine campus came into view. The sprawling, woody campus with its trails and its wide courtyards reminded Julie of Eden Hall. But unlike her old high school – which boasted its own lake on campus – the familiar Penobscot River ran through the grounds of UMaine.

            After finding their way to the athletes' dormitory, the trio got to work unloading the SUV and helping Kevin get settled in. Michelle, who was a month and a half shy of her 10th birthday, had been staying with her grandfather during the move.

            Once they finished the unpacking, Julie looked over to her stepson, who had walked his parents back to the parking lot. The weight of the bittersweet rite of passage finally made itself felt on the former goalie, who began to cry softly as she looked into Kevin's eyes. Though he had grown into a tall, strong, and ruggedly handsome young man, his deer-like brown eyes still hinted at an innocence and softness that made Julie want to take him in her arms and never let go.

            The defenseman let out a slight 'oof' as his stepmother attempted to do just that.

            "I'll be fine, Mom," he offered, trying in vain to separate from her embrace.

            "I know," she replied, her words incongruous with her tightening grip.

            "Julie, honey," Adam spoke up, "let the poor boy breathe."

            The 18-year old gave his stepfather a small, appreciative smile as Julie let up.

            "And if you ever need anything, we're just a call, email, or Facebook message away," she declared. "Just say the word and one – or both of us – will be up here in an instant."

            "I know, Mom," the 18-year old replied gently.

            He knew that he could handle whatever might come his way on campus, and he had no intention of burdening the gracious woman who had taken him in and loved him as only a mother could. But he knew that she needed to hear that he would still go to her in case of trouble, so he humored her.

            "Anyway, good luck, Kiddo," Adam offered as he extended a hand toward his stepson.

            But the young man wrapped his surprised stepfather in a hug instead.

            "You're the best, Dad."

            During his early childhood, Kevin had always been seen as something of a waste of space – by his biological parents, by the system, and by kids at school. Julie and Adam were the first people who had sensed potential in him. And all of that time spent on the ice, where Adam patiently taught Kevin the game, helped the younger man discover something that he was both good at and loved.

            Though Julie was a loving and generous mother, she was also the family disciplinarian. Adam never allowed his coaching to prevent him from indulging the boy from time to time and allowing him to act like a teenager. Kevin always appreciated how Adam could be instructive but also easygoing and fun-loving.

            Adam, who had managed to keep it together the entire time, felt his eyes moisten as he returned the hug. Given his own distressed relationship with his father, being labeled a great dad by Kevin made him feel that all of his other achievements paled in comparison.

            All-Star, Stanley Cup Champion, MVP, Rookie of the Year…they all had nothing on "you're the best, Dad."

            The teary-eyed parents eventually let their son get on with meeting his new teammates and classmates after securing a promise from him to keep in regular contact. Deciding to grab a bit of dinner before making the return trip to Bangor, they settled into a wooden table at Verve – a hip burrito restaurant that also featured premium coffee and craft beer.

            It was a welcome sight to the pair of Bangor residents, who loved the Verve back home, which provided a bit of exotic flair in the land of lobster rolls and blueberry crumble.

            "Heh, at least Kevin will be well-fed," Adam declared before tucking into his chorizo burrito bowl.

            "That he will be," Julie agreed, looking down at her chicken fajita salad. "And he was right about you, by the way. I'm proud of you, Adam."

            His sapphire eyes took on a misty sheen as he set his fork down and reached across the table, grasping his wife's hand.

            "All I ever did was copy you," he offered. "But thanks."

            She gave him a smile that mixed appreciation with adoration, which had the effect of making Adam feel ten feet tall. He kissed her hand in response.

            "Well, come on," she spoke up after a few seconds. "Let's eat up. We can't keep the Ice Princess waiting."

            At once, Adam released Julie's hand and grabbed his fork.

            "No way," he agreed.

* * *

 

            "So _this_ is where you guys got my middle name from," Michelle Eden Banks spoke up from the back seat of a rental van as she approached the campus of Eden Hall with her parents. Despite being some 1,600 miles away from Bangor, the leafy campus in the suburbs of Minnesota's Twin Cities had a homey feeling to the pair of former Ducks.

            With her long sandy hair, nimble, athletic figure, and magnetic smile, Michelle – whose 14th birthday would be that October – looked like the spitting image of Julie 'the Cat' Gaffney at that age. The girl had even inherited her mother's quick reflexes, and had a serious chance of breaking Julie's school records for season and career saves.

            At any rate, Michelle was the only person whom Julie could stomach besting her. Despite graduating from BU and leaving the ice some 26 years earlier, the former goalie had retained much of her old competitive streak.

            "Nice place, isn't it?" She asked.

            "Looks pretty blue bloody," Michelle replied.

            Adam stifled a laugh from the front passenger seat. Apparently, the blue eyes were not the only thing that he had passed on to his daughter. Despite having grown up in wealth, the retired hockey player had always felt out of place running in the circles of old money. Michelle seemed to share this aversion.

_But she's still my princess…so she can't be all common._

            "It may be blue bloody," Adam began, "but this is the best place for you. Eden Hall's got the top high school hockey program in the country. Coach Conway is an old teammate of mine, and he's the best in the business."

            "Better than _you?"_ Michelle asked with a cocked eyebrow.

            "Heh, yes," her father conceded through gritted teeth.

            "I'll believe it when I see it," the girl declared from the back with folded arms.

            Adam looked at his daughter's expression through the rearview mirror and smiled. His little 'ice princess' had always been great for his ego.

            Michelle saw the creases around her father's eyes in the mirror and could tell that he was smiling. She returned the gesture, and inadvertently tugged on her dad's heartstrings in the process.

            Julie brought the van round to the parking lot by the dorms and the Banks trio began unloading it after Michelle had checked in and received the key to her room. After getting their daughter set up in the dorm room that she would have all to herself, Julie and Adam were not ready to leave their little girl just yet, so they offered to show her around the campus.

            As they approached the stables, they observed a tall, trim middle-aged man with a salt and pepper mane standing next to a dark-haired boy who looked to be about Michelle's age.

            "I shouldn't really be telling you this," the man began in a hushed tone. "But if you ever wanna give a present to the football team...this is the place to go," he explained, indicating the musty-smelling horse stalls.

            The boy laughed out loud at his father's suggestion.

            "Good to know," he replied.

            Having recognized their old friend from the recruiting trip he had paid to Bangor the previous summe, Julie and Adam broke into wide smiles upon seeing Charlie Conway.

            Adam made a quacking sound, prompting Charlie and his son to whip around and face the Banks trio.

            "Hey, guys!" Charlie beamed, moving to hug his old teammates before shaking hands with his new goalie. "This is my son, Gordon," he added, indicating the boy.

            With his dark, reddish brown hair, green eyes, and mischievous smile, he looked like a dead ringer for Captain Duck of yesteryear.

            Michelle, hardly a shy girl, blushed and looked down at the ground as young Gordon flashed his smile at her. But she agreed to go with him readily enough when he offered to show her around.

            After another misty-eyed parental goodbye, Julie and Adam waved at Michelle as she went off with Gordon.

            "Don't worry," Charlie spoke up. "I'll keep an eye on those two."

            "Be sure that you do," Adam replied in a clipped tone.

            He was never one to joke around when it came to his Ice Princess.

            Julie gripped her husband's hand in a reassuring gesture, as if to say 'don't worry.'

            "Anyway, how would you two like to go out to dinner with me and my wife?" Charlie offered.

            "It would be our pleasure," Julie replied. "Thank you."

            After shooting the breeze for a few minutes and confirming their plans for the evening, Julie and Adam said goodbye to their old friend and made their way hand-in-hand back to the rental van. As Julie drove to the hotel that they were staying at, Adam wept in perfect silence as the burden of separating from his daughter weighed him down.

            He was a quiet crier, and Julie was astonished to see that he had taken a full box of Kleenex and worked his way down to the halfway point during the trip.

            Seeing him like this made her own eyes well up. After parking the van, she gripped his hand.

            "I'll be fine, honestly," he assured her. "Actually, I'm pretty good _now._ I just had to get it out of my system."

            "Fair enough," she replied with a nod before they separated and made their way up to their hotel room.

            His words rang with truth. Though he would continue to miss his daughter once he returned to Bangor, Adam had flushed the worst of his feelings out of his system. He was well on the road to recovery when he heard the door click behind him, and Julie walked ahead into their room on that final day of August.

            She had turned 47 on the 15th of that month. He would be 48 on December 20th. But their trim figures would make plenty of people half their age green with envy. Looking over his wife, whose summer glow was on display in her white V-neck and khaki chinos, Adam was overcome with a feeling of love.

            When they had reconnected after a 14-year absence, the undying flame of passion seemed like a burden. And perhaps it had been. But now, it had dimmed just a little bit…into a gentle, but hot glow. Their mutual passion still had plenty of material to feed the slow burn.

            "Adam!" Julie exclaimed as he grabbed her by the waist and pressed himself against her.

            Though surprised, she was unable to conceal her delight. In moments like this, Adam Banks – her first and truest love – could make her heart race. Dressed in his dark blue Dockers slacks and open-collared white shirt with gray pinstripes and long sleeves; the man with brown hair, slightly graying temples, and burning sapphire eyes had aged like a fine wine.

            "I thought we'd never be alone," he declared with a flirty grin before running his hand through her blonde hair and pulling her in for a deep, tender kiss.

**THE END**


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